


Altered Perceptions

by CrazyDragon



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe, Gen, Marauders' Era
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2009-11-28
Updated: 2012-01-29
Packaged: 2017-12-07 14:04:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 53,724
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/749350
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CrazyDragon/pseuds/CrazyDragon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AU Marauders Era, their fourth Hogwarts year (1973-74).  James sees something that shocks him into seeing the truth about someone, rather than his cherished false perception...  Tobias Snape is a wizard in this AU, and a Death Eater--that’s the biggest change from canon before this point, and what ends up shoving it *wa-a-ay* AU.  ,’=]</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> _**A/N:** I should probably warn you; I like the potential of the character Severus Snape best of all in the Potterverse...and the Marauders would’ve had a high holy hell of a time if I’d been a classmate of theirs, ‘cause I utterly *detest* self-righteous bullies. (A/N-slash-“bullies rant” continued at the end of this chapter, if anyone’s interested. It’s one of my Buttons, so I got a bit wordy...)_   
>  _**Disclaimer:** Harry Potter and all characters therefrom are J.K. Rowling’s babies, not mine; and I’m not earning a red cent off this fun exercise._

James Potter pressed himself close against the giant tree trunk, wide-eyed and icy-veined with shock--and a strong desire to remain unseen; while at the same time morbid curiosity wouldn’t let him tear his eyes away from the horrifying scene in the small, moonlit clearing.  _Mistake, oh, Merlin, this was a mistake--!_   He regretted following his classmate out the gate and across the castle grounds after he’d spotted the boy sneaking down the hallways, an hour after curfew.  He’d thought the other boy was Up To Something, and wanted to know what it was--maybe he could use it against the slimy git the next day, even if it wasn’t something against James and his friends.  Their House-based antipathy was mutual, and long-standing.  James had smirked and thought that his restless trip to the kitchens for a midnight snack would wait.

Naturally, it never once crossed his mind to inform any of the professors.  Not only would that get _him_ in trouble as well, for being on the wrong side of the Fat Lady’s portrait after curfew; but then he wouldn’t be able to level Just Retribution on the git of a Slytherin, who so obviously deserved it for being out of the Slytherin dungeons!

 _Hypocrisy_ wasn’t something teenagers really understood as it applied to themselves, be they Muggle or wizarding teens.

James swallowed, hard, with unwilling sympathy for the scrawny figure now writhing in agony on the ground, desperately trying to choke back sounds of unimaginable torment.  It seemed to James that the curse went on forever, though in actuality it couldn’t possibly have been more than a couple minutes.  He couldn’t imagine what it must seem like to the tortured boy; with that tall, thin man in blackest robes standing above him, holding the Unforgiveable Cruciatus curse on _his own son--!_   It was miracle enough that the boy wasn’t screaming his agony to shatter the night!  James’ father had told him how rare it was for a victim of this curse to remain quiet, going so far as to say _he_ hadn’t been able to stifle his own screams the one time it had been cast on him.  James now believed it--he could almost feel the pain radiating from the boy!  How in Merlin’s name was he keeping from more than those half-strangled, unnaturally high-pitched grunts?!!

James couldn’t believe what was happening!  The boy had barely given a rather strained greeting of “Father,” before the curse had been viciously cast.  How could that man _do_ that-- _to_ _his own son?!!_   James couldn’t even imagine casting that horrible curse on the boy himself, and that was the person he hated most in all the Wizarding world!  But even that slimy Slytherin git Severus Snape didn’t deserve to suffer what James was seeing!

When the man finally released the curse, the boy--Snape, who didn’t look nearly so greasy and despicable to James now--fell back in a boneless sprawl, serious muscle tremors ripping through his body with enough force to make it quite visibly twitch and shake.  It would be a minor miracle if he hadn’t torn something in the midst of his agony.  James could hear his heavy, raspy breathing quite clearly.

He watched and listened in stunned silence as the drama continued to unfold before him, unable to focus enough to do anything through his shock.  The man’s next words didn’t help him get a grip on himself, either; James had never heard such virulent, cruel taunts in his life--including those he regularly exchanged with that very boy, sprawled so inelegantly on the ground before his eyes.

“You _will_ obey me, you worthless, sniveling waste of flesh!”  (James winced hard at that word that Sirius had dubbed as Snape’s nickname, almost from the very moment they first met.  It was no wonder _that_ was the insult that had finally gotten a reaction from the scrawny little undoubtedly-soon-to-be Slytherin...!)  “Your useless carcass is promised to Him, and you _will_ present your disgusting self before Him, _with_ the proper deference and humility; you _will_ take His Mark, and become a proper servant to Him!  I don’t know why He would want such a useless, pathetic, _insignificant_ excuse for a wizard; but He _will_ be obeyed, in _everything_ \--as will I!  I am your father, loathe though I am to admit to having sired such a disgusting bag of garbage as you!  And I’ll strip the putrid flesh off your spongy bones before I’ll allow your disrespect!

“Your mother gainsaid me, and you saw for yourself what happened to _that_ fetid bitch for it!  How long did it take...?”  The venomous tone went quieter for a moment, and speculative--though nowhere near regretful.  “She lasted three days, didn’t she...the disgusting cow was stronger than I thought.  It was her only good point...”  Then he leaned down to glare death straight into his son’s face as he roared, “If you don’t want to die the same way, you’ll mend your manner and do as you’re told!!”

Snape flinched back--whether from his father’s virulence or just the aftereffects from the Cruciatus was impossible to say.  It might have been simply from the man’s proximity.  The undeniably Dark wizard straightened to his full height and crossed his arms over his chest, a venomous sneer on his face as he glared down at his son.

James had gone light-headed with shock as he gaped helplessly, while the boy on the ground painfully gathered his gangly, shivering limbs enough to flop over onto his stomach.  His mind distractedly gibbered, _Great Merlin, it’s no wonder Snape has always been so hard to rile up with just insults!  We’re downright_ **friendly** _next to this creep!_   He watched Snape shakily push himself up until he was kneeling, bent forward, arms braced on thighs.  Stringy black hair curtained his face except where the long, crooked nose poked out.  The shivers didn’t seem to be dying down appreciably, and he obviously couldn’t catch his breath.  That didn’t stop him from speaking, though his gasping took away some of the venom he was trying to inject into his own hoarse-voiced words.  It detracted nothing from the stark determination in his tone, though.

 _“Never!!!_   I _won’t_ \--serve that _monster;_ I _won’t_ take--his damned _slave-mark!!”_

James’ mouth gaped and his eyes widened in horrified disbelief as Severus Snape, the boy Sirius and he had dubbed ‘Snivellus’ for crying on their first ride on the Hogwarts Express; the boy he’d long believed to be nothing but a slimy Slytherin coward, and definitely a quite willing future Death Eater--showed a downright idiotic, highly Gryffindor level of defiance towards this abusive man...his own father.  Who promptly spat “Crucio!!” once more and watched with noticeable and malicious enjoyment as his son’s body arched back to flop spastically about on the ground, a strangled, high pitched scream of pure agony finally ripping from his throat in spite of his obvious effort to hold it in.  The only thing keeping it from being earth-shattering was his shortness of breath--he physically couldn’t sustain that much volume.

James’ fingers clawed at the rough bark before him hard enough to abrade his skin as he watched, fiercely debating with himself whether he should burst out of hiding and _do_ something, or run for help.  It wasn’t just unaccustomed fear holding him back, though his mouth was dry with it and he could see the shaking in his hands.  No, his main problem was the realization that if he didn’t immediately get the best of this full-grown, _Dark_ wizard, he’d be easily overcome; and then what help would he be?  Who was to say Snape’s father wouldn’t kill him--kill them _both?!!_   Taking on classmates and an adult squib like Filch, or horsing around with Peeves was one thing; the Headmaster would ensure they got nothing worse in punishment than points loss and a few only moderately miserable detentions, if anything.  Taking on an obviously Dark wizard in his prime, with all his knowledge of Dark Arts and an obvious willingness to use it even on his own _kin_ \--that was quite another thing!

Especially as this Dark wizard must have some means of blocking the Hogwarts wards from notifying the Headmaster of an Unforgivable being cast in the Forbidden Forest, practically on the castle grounds.  He must be strong, to do that!

But who could James get to help, who wouldn’t take forever demanding explanations?!  It _was_ well after curfew; Filch and most of the professors on regular night patrol were rather short-tempered about finding students still up...and he _really_ didn’t think Snape had enough time for him to even just run all the way to the castle and back.  As much as he didn’t like the Slytherin, he knew Snape certainly didn’t deserve to _die_ \--especially not at his own father’s hands!--and _certainly_ not for refusing to serve He Who Must Not Be Named!  Because to James’ mind, that was obviously who that man had to have been talking about.  That man wanted Snape to take the Dark Mark, and become a real Death Eater.

In James’ book, anyone who refused so bravely to join the ranks of those evil wizards just _couldn’t_ be all bad.  Not even Sniv -

 _No!_ James growled angrily to himself; he _would not_ use that name again!!  It would be too foul of him to keep using that awful nickname, after this; too dishonorable.  James would be no better than Snape’s father, if he kept to the petty name-calling after what he’d just witnessed!

Seeing dark liquid burst from Snape’s nose, more black than red in the moonlight; and hearing a quite distinct _crack!_ that Quidditch experience told his mind was the breaking of bone, finally tore him from his rather un-Gryffindor dithering.  James didn’t want to even _think_ about pain so intense that you broke your own bones, just from the strength of your reaction to it!

It felt like time was moving sluggishly in comparison to his zipping thoughts, his limbs leaden and slow to respond as he drew his wand from its pocket in his robes, shoved himself off from the tree, and pelted out into the clearing, concentrating on his horror and anger at such cruelty to drown his fear.  If this man would cast an Unforgiveable on his own son, there was no telling what he’d do to James; especially if he realized no one knew where James was!

Anger focused, thoughts racing too fast to really _think_ , James dove between the two, shoving the man’s wand-arm aside and jumping back out of arm’s reach while yelling, “Stop it!  Leave him alone!!”  He kept his wand raised and ready, a curse on his lips he was all set to cast, trying not to let the shakiness of his limbs show.  He belatedly realized he _should_ have outright grabbed the man’s wand and thrown it as far as he could.  His father was going to have a fit at that oversight, especially as James wanted to become an Auror some day!

Oh, Merlin; why hadn’t he thought of at least trying _Expelliarmus_ from the edge of the clearing, then running towards the castle if it didn’t work?!  That might have scared the Dark wizard off, and would have been a lot less risky!  Even just sending up a whole slew of fireworks to alert the castle would have been smarter than this.  Oh, his dad was definitely going to _kill_ him for being an unthinking idiot...!

...though that might also have resulted in an Avada Kedavra being cast on Snape before his father left.  So, maybe James wasn’t acting _quite_ as inexcusably stupid as he was suddenly afraid he was.

If was just...this was the first time something James did had ever _mattered,_ let alone so much!  He _couldn’t_ screw this up; he just _couldn’t!_

The Unforgivable curse had been broken at the surprise interference, leaving Snape gasping for breath in an awkward sprawl and shaking uncontrollably, with small, pained whimpers breaking from his lips as he struggled just to stay conscious.  James couldn’t spare him even a worried glance, keeping his eyes glued to the dangerous man in front of him--a man who he suddenly realized must certainly be a full-fledged Death Eater.  He was really starting to regret his damnable Gryffindor rush to defend, as the man’s angry black eyes fixed on him!  A sense of desperation nibbled at the edges of his thoughts.  He was only a Fourth-year student at Hogwarts!  He didn’t know any spells to disable a full-grown wizard!

 _Why_ in _Merlin’s name_ hadn’t he simply hexed the man before he even knew James was there?!!  It’s not like he’d never used the tactic before!  Granted, James didn’t really know how to properly cast _Expelliarmus_ yet, but still--!  He certainly knew enough immobilizing hexes, ones they’d had plenty of practice using--on Snape...  Oh, and wasn’t the wave of shame that rose with _that_ thought strong enough to drown in, and make his wand waver ever so noticeably!  It was certainly too late to try casting anything now; the man was standing wand at the ready before him, ready to block anything James might try.

As something in the Forest around them suddenly went crashing away, heading towards the distant castle, inspiration struck James, before Snape’s father could recover from his surprise.  James grinned fiercely and yelled exuberantly after the fast receding sound, _“Go, Padfoot!  Get the Headmaster!”_

Snape’s father glared at him in malignant fury, eyes darting towards the crashing underbrush that was quickly fading into the distance, still seeming to be heading straight for the school.  There was a moment of indecision, then the man snarled, spun, and Disapparated, with one last venomous glance at his son that raised James’ neck-hairs and sent a lead-footed chill stomping up his spine.

James let out the breath he’d been holding in an explosive rush, amazed at his luck.  He couldn’t believe that had actually _worked!_   And the bastard hadn’t tried to even Obliviate him before leaving.  Merlin bless whatever creature had been scared away!  He shakily turned to Snape, who didn’t look to have the strength to do more than breathe and tremble.  And whimper quietly; though he was obviously trying to stifle the small sounds.  It was quite possible the barely-conscious boy didn’t even realize his four-year nemesis was standing over him.  Not that he’d likely be comforted, were he to recognize James Potter just then...at least he ought to know James wouldn’t _Crucio_ him--if only because he’d know very well that none of Gryffindor knew how to cast any of the three Unforgivable curses.

Oh, Merlin.  James paled and swallowed hard against nausea as he had a sudden epiphany, as to just exactly _how_ Snape could have learned all the Dark curses he was rumored to know.  His own father had likely demonstrated them, _on him_ , enough times for him to learn them.  A shiver raced up his spine as James understood how lucky he and his friends had _been,_ all their years at Hogwarts, that Snape hadn’t used even one of _those_ curses on them in retaliation.

What had he and Sirius been _thinking,_ bullying a boy who was supposed to know such horrible curses?!  Curses they didn’t have the faintest clue how to counter!  If Snape had been anything like what they’d accused him of being, he’d certainly have been expelled for using Dark magic on them by now!  Merlin knew, they’d given Snape _more_ than enough reason to want to Crucio, if not outright Avada Kedavra them.

Dropping down to squat at Snape’s shoulder, his knees suddenly too watery with relief that Snape’s father was gone to hold him up any longer, James sighed in resignation.  He stared down at the blood-streaked face of his nemesis, actually _looking_ at the boy as a person for maybe the first time, ever.  He’d never paid too close attention to any Slytherin before, other than looking for weaknesses to exploit, in spite of his mother’s many, many lectures and his father’s sternly disapproving looks.

Sighing again, trying to ignore the shivers in his own muscles, James stood up and drew his wand, backing up a step.  There was no way he’d be able to carry Snape back to the castle.  Especially if he wanted to avoid hurting him any further!  He’d have to take a chance on a spell he’d never cast before, one normally not taught until seventh year.  This would be the first time he’d tried a new spell when it actually _mattered--_ he could hurt Snape very badly, if he flubbed this.  James had never felt so unsure of himself in his life, but he grit his teeth and gathered his concentration.

He was a Gryffindor; he _would_ do this right!

He thought carefully about a spell he’d seen the teaching staff cast a little too often, between he and his friends’ pranks and frequent Quidditch accidents.  He knew the precise wand movement, and the Latin word of incantation.  He usually managed to get new spells right on his first try when he’d only seen them demonstrated once; he _would_ be able to do this.  Determinedly keeping in mind slow and careful movement, he pointed his wand at Snape and for the first time, James cast “Mobilicorpus!”

He was gratified to see the boy’s body rise gently into the air to about chest-height, with barely a bobble and not a sound of protest at the movement--so he hadn’t hurt him with the spell.  James could feel his magic wrapped around the boy, cocooning him from harm.  He wondered briefly if that was what this spell was supposed to feel like, but didn’t let himself be distracted from his spellcasting.  Much as he would have found it hilarious an hour ago to drop Snape on his head, now the thought made him cringe as if it were Sirius floating there.  No--as if it were his mother; Sirius could be a total prat even to his best friends on occasion, and there had been a few rare times when they’d justifiably let him have it.  Though they’d never quite sent him to the hospital wing...

...as they frequently did to Snape...

With the sudden sensation of ice-water shooting through his veins, James Potter realized for the first time in his short life just how-- _Slytherin_ \--he and Sirius tended to behave...at least by their own definition of the House.  They set out to _hurt_ Slytherin students with their pranks; in their egos, if not physically--though they never shirked at that either, earning them tight-lipped glares from Madam Pomfrey whenever she laid eyes on them.  They were cruel, even downright vicious in their attacks--claiming they were being proactive, striking before “the Slytherins gits” could get them.

If any Slytherin had played the exact same pranks on them or any of their Housemates, they’d have screamed bloody murder to Dumbledore, citing it as proof that Slytherins were inherently “evil”.

The problem was, they had no guarantee that any Slytherin would have ever gone after them at all, if _they_ hadn’t kept starting things.  Even _Snape_ still tended to try to avoid them whenever possible, rather than trying to get revenge on them, or to be “proactive”.  And he, of all people, had cause!

James and his friends lied to the teaching staff when they were caught, laughing as they blamed their victims; they snuck around the school when- and where-ever they pleased, breaking any rule that wasn’t convenient to them, while trying to get Slytherins in trouble for doing the exact same thing; he and Sirius, especially, insulted and provoked and sabotaged any Slytherin they could find -

James shook his head sharply, shoving the unwelcome revelations to the back of his mind for later worrying.  It seemed his mother’s summer-long lectures since his first Hogwarts year about bullying and unwarranted prejudice might just have finally found purchase in his brain, and were clawing their way in towards his actually understanding what she meant.  He didn’t _want_ to understand--it showed him and his friends in a very, _very_ bad light, and chopped his ego down lower than his heels with a blade of pure mortification...but he wanted more than anything to be like his father; wanted to be an Auror, a hero that everybody could respect.  To do it properly, in a way that his father could be proud of him, meant owning up to his own mistakes as soon as he realized them--and then _fixing_ them.  Not to mention not ever repeating them again!

Merlin help him, he was going to have to be _friendly_ to the snarky Slytherin now!  James shivered briefly, feeling like his neck hairs were standing straight out.  Then he looked back at the seemingly broken boy floating wrapped in his magic before him, and shamed remorse drowned the prejudicial distaste.  He unconsciously tightened his magical grip for a moment, gently, making absolutely sure he wouldn’t be dropping Snape by accident.

Too-pale skin looked white in the moonlight, shadow-blackened blood still dribbling sluggishly from the corners of his mouth and both nostrils of the beaky, too-large nose...whose appearance hadn’t been helped a bit by all the times James and his friends had broken it.  It hadn’t been so unsightly when Snape first came to Hogwarts...  James winced, his mother’s disappointed voice ringing in his ears.  Making fun of someone for a fault he’d personally helped make worse was _not_ going to set well with her when she found out!

Snape’s breaths were coming ragged and shallow, more like panting; the usually intense obsidian eyes were shut tight in pain, the thin lips curled under in a tight grimace showing bloody, crooked teeth--he must have bitten through cheek or tongue while in the throes of his father’s curse. --And just how did his teeth get to be so crooked, anyway?  The same way as his nose?  James couldn’t remember what Snape’s teeth had used to look like, but he knew for a fact he and Sirius had loosened those teeth several times.  There was only so much medi-wizardry could do; extensive repeated use of healing spells and potions on growing children sometimes started to lose effectiveness, or caused abnormal growth patterns.

\- Did Snape’s father do this sort of torture to Snape every time he went home?!  Add frequent curse-injuries like this to the Marauders’ pranks, and the Slytherin was lucky that Madam Pomfrey could help him at all, anymore!

James’ thoughts skittered on with lightning-fast observations, totally out of his conscious control as his mind was running on low-level panic and the aftermath of adrenalin near-overload from facing down Snape’s father.  The Slytherin boy wasn’t handsome, not by a long shot--but there was something about Snape’s face, when you actually paid any attention to it, that somehow told of determination and inner strength.  There was pride etched there, definitely...  He certainly never gave up against the Marauders; even at four-to-one odds, with his own House merely watching from the sidelines.  He looked years older than fourteen, especially with those lines of pain now clawing into his skin...

... _Were_ Snape’s Housemates always just watching?  James suddenly remembered times when Snape had disappeared for a day or two into the Hospital Wing, when James and his friends hadn’t done anything to him.  Oh, Merlin--they’d _laughed_ about that, only too glad the Slytherin was “out of their hair”!  What kind of people _were_ he and his friends, to so easily laugh at someone else’s pain?!  Shame began to burn in his gut.  They’d never have laughed if it had been a fellow Gryffindor in Snape’s situation; or a Ravenclaw, or even a Hufflepuff...!

There was something...gracefully elegant, about Snape, something in the way he carried himself; especially those deceptively strong, long-fingered, so-graceful hands.  He didn’t fidget, or flutter about; every movement had a purpose, and was never exaggerated.  He hadn’t been clumsy since the end of second year, unless it was a side-effect from a prank curse.  He’d hit his major growth spurt at the same time Sirius had, and had now mostly grown into his wiry-muscled body, with just the filling-out of muscle left.  It really wasn’t a wonder that James once in a while overheard the girls even of his own House talking dreamily about the now-tall Slytherin outcast.  He’d never be as “gorgeous” as Sirius, or even James himself; but his sense of presence apparently made up for it, as far as the girls were concerned.

Snape was unfailingly polite to the “fairer” sex.  Which might be a well-developed survival instinct...even _Sirius_ had finally learned to be careful what he said around girls.  They could be _vicious_ when angered, and tended to band together in retaliation without a thought for House lines.  His mind very carefully did not allow James to think of Lily Evans yet.

When Severus Snape said he’d do something, he did it--no matter what it took.  Forcing him to do something against his will was nearly impossible, even for the Headmaster...but his personal sense of honor would make him do things no one else was willing to do.  Like, he was the only one who’d ever given any sort of apology, no matter how grudging, to _any-_ one, during their long-standing mutual prank war.  The Marauders merely laughed off the discomfort of teachers and classmates alike; both their inconvenience, and sometimes minor injury...while Snape--he apologized to the bystanders, both the innocent and the not-so-innocent--even when _he_ hadn’t been the one to cause them harm; and even when they had done nothing to help him, preferring to laugh at his misfortune.

James had used Snape’s mannerly little habit to get himself out of trouble with his mother.  When she heard some of the things he’d done, she always wanted to know if he’d apologized to the people he’d “inconvenienced”.  He could truthfully say they’d gotten an apology; it just never occurred to his mother that the apology hadn’t come from James and his friends.  Sirius had always blown it off as Slytherin sucking-up, Snape just trying to weasel out of trouble...trouble the _Marauders_ had generally started, James’ long-dormant conscience prodded sharply.

Who of them was the most honorable?  By their own actions and words, not their House reputations?

James cringed at his new self-knowledge, but couldn’t seem to rein in his cascading thoughts.  It felt like he was dithering forever, though in reality his thoughts were flying lightning-fast and only a minute or two had passed.

One thing really bothered him, though: _Why_ did the Headmaster always reward Gryffindor, when they were the callous, disrespectful ones who--admittedly--started nearly all of the trouble?  Take away the Marauders’ bullying, and Snape would most likely spend all of his time with his nose in a book, bothering absolutely no one!  If he did end up going Dark--even though it now looked to James like Snape would truly rather die, than let that happen!--wouldn’t it be at least partly the fault of all of them who were practically shoving him down that path, instead of helping him?  What was the Headmaster thinking?!

James swallowed in a dry throat.  “Marauders”--they’d thought it a grand name, when Lily first called them that in a fit of temper.  It was only last year they’d finally looked up what the word _meant;_ they’d just thought it was another way of saying “pirates”, and pirates were such interesting, free-living chaps!  They hadn’t realized the insult she was giving them at the time; and then they’d romanticized it, taking it as their badge of honor.

Merlin...his father was going to more than go ballistic when he found out what his one and only son and heir had been up to, for pretty much all of his Hogwarts career up ‘til now!  James wasn’t looking forward to the tongue-lashing that was going to come due when next he went home.  Because he _would_ have to tell his parents; his conscience, once awakened, wouldn’t let him rest until he came clean about his wrongs.  At least it would only be yelling, and likely losing about all of his privileges until he was old and grey as Dumbledore.

Looking at the injured Snape while almost unconsciously maneuvering around yet another tree, James realized he didn’t know if _he’d_ have been able to stand up to a father who thought nothing of casting an Unforgivable on his own son.  What else had the man done to Snape?  And what had he meant, about Snape’s mother?  Had he meant--had Snape’s own father, really killed his own _wife_ \--Snape’s _mother?!!_   Horror trickled through James at the mere thought; followed closely by a wash of deep guilt.  Snape obviously had a home-life straight from Hell...and James and his friends had done their level best to make his time at Hogwarts another kind of living Hell.  School should have been a sanctuary for Snape; relief from whatever tortures he endured from his father.  Where else could Snape go, to escape, until he was of age?

James, with his two loving parents and happy home life--he could barely grasp the idea of what Snape’s life was really like.  Could Sirius, with his more abusive parents?  Sirius, who was on the verge of being disowned for his refusal to support his parents’ belief in Wizarding blood purity...?  James knew things happened to Sirius when he went home on the holidays that he wasn’t telling his friends about.  For the first time ever, the thought crossed his mind that Sirius might actually suffer real abuse at the hands of his family.  Though surely, not as bad as what Snape apparently got--

Oh dear Merlin--Snape and Sirius had a lot more in common than James had ever thought!  If Snape had been Sorted into Gryffindor; if Sirius hadn’t argued the Hat into putting him in Gryffindor-- _Snape_ might have ended up his best friend, instead of Sirius!  James didn’t know yet if he should feel horrified, or cheated.

Then James blanched.  He and Sirius had been Sorted before Snape...and the Hat hadn’t exactly shouted its choice the instant it hit that greasy head.  Snape’s Sorting had been the longest of their Year, and kept that record through every Sorting since, too, if he remembered right.  Had Snape been arguing against being put in Gryffindor, because the two prats who tormented him on the Hogwarts Express had already been Sorted there...?  That wasn’t possible, was it?  Snape had seemed to fit so well into Slytherin...

...Hadn’t he?

Sweet Merlin, he’d just displayed more foolhardy Gryffindor bravery than James ever had!

What had Snape _done_ , really, to deserve James and Sirius’ constant abuse?  Been homesick on his first train-ride to school?

 _\- Had_ it been homesickness?  James suddenly remembered something his own father had said, during his first Christmas holiday back home.  James had been regaling his parents with fancifully embroidered tales of what he and his new best friends had been doing at school, and casting Severus Snape as the evil, slimy git they’d wanted him to be.  Harold Potter had given him a rare disappointed Look, shaking his head and sighing.  James had then endured a lengthy lecture on tolerance and compassion and such, along with quite stern orders to leave the Slytherin alone--all of which James had promptly forgotten.  How could his parents know anything about today’s Slytherins?  They’d been out of school for years and _years,_ and hadn’t even met any of the slimy gits!

Harold had then looked away to his wife, their eyes meeting with a look of sadness as he commented, “That poor boy--I can’t imagine, finding your own mother in such a state; and right before starting Hogwarts, too...”

Sweet Merlin... _when,_ exactly, had Snape’s mother died?  James had a horrible feeling he now knew just why that scrawny, little, greasy-haired, ugly slip of a boy had been struggling so mightily not to cry, on their first ride on the Hogwarts Express. 

And Sirius and he had called him _names_ for it--!

If his mother ever discovered the complete facts about how their feud had started, James--and Sirius!--would be lucky to escape _to_ Azkaban for the rest of their lives, Dementors and all!  And oh, but they’d deserve it...!

James hadn’t thought anything of what his father said at that time.  He’d been eleven years old; the only things on his mind had been Quidditch, pranks on Slytherins, and ways to skive off classes.  Compassion for a fellow student--especially an ‘evil’ Slytherin!--wasn’t something eleven year old Gryffindor boys came by very easily.

He wasn’t eleven any more.  He was nearly fifteen, and starting to think about more than his own selfish little world.  Starting to realize that his eleven year old self’s judgment of people--might not have been right.

Oh, Merlin...!  Had it all really started when he and Sirius decided to mock Snape’s grief over his mother’s _horrible_ _death?_   For it surely must have been horrible, it _that man_ had done it!  He’d said something about her lasting for _three days..._ James cringed in utter shame.  His self-image was taking more of a beating than at any other time in his life; his ego would be practically non-existent when he was done with the self-revelations, at this rate!

James shoved his increasingly guilty conscience to the back of his mind and locked it away for a while, trying to concentrate only on his magic and maneuvering the smoothly floating body in front of him, trying to be certain he didn’t hurt Snape by clumsily knocking him into a tree, or something.  Snape was apparently in too much pain to even notice he wasn’t still lying on the ground; and he was still twitching all over--not good signs.  James swallowed back a surge of unusual concern as he carefully continued guiding his shallowly panting classmate all the long trek to the Hospital Wing.  Madam Pomfrey would be able to help Snape--with the after-effects of those two Cruciatus curses, anyway.  He frowned in worry when he realized he didn’t know what bone had broken; but he wasn’t about to risk hurting Snape more by trying to find out himself.  It wasn’t like he’d know what to do about it, anyway.  He’d just have to hurry--carefully.

He wanted the both of them inside the safety of Hogwarts’ anti-Apparation wards as soon as possible!  What if Snape’s father suspected his ruse, and decided to come back?

James didn’t know what could be done about Snape Senior.  If it were a Gryffindor student in question, he had no doubts whatsoever that the Headmaster would ‘fix’ things in the student’s benefit.  But--Severus Snape was a Slytherin.  James had used the Headmaster’s own prejudice against Slytherin House to his and his friends’ benefit for years; he couldn’t pretend he wasn’t aware of it.  He’d just--never before thought it unjustified.  He’d shared the same prejudice, after all.  Gryffindors were intrinsically better than slimy, cheating Slytherins--why shouldn’t they get a break, and Slytherin the boot?

A shudder wracked James as his mind, having finally seen what Lily Evans and some few others had been trying to tell him for years now, started throwing memories at him--showing him things he’d been too blind to notice at the time.  Things that proved that it was he and Sirius, more than any Slytherin, who were the most obnoxious, bullying gits at Hogwarts.  Gits accomplished at skiving out of trouble at the expense of others...others who were generally innocent, until provoked into action.

James had to admit, after several more vivid remembrances from a mind that simply would not quit dredging them up, that _he’d_ certainly have retaliated against them just as violently as Snape did, were he in the Slytherin’s position--maybe even worse!  _James_ would never have been able to ignore as much as Snape had managed to; not even in the face of four-to-one odds!

Would the Headmaster even be willing help Snape?  Or would he leave the Slytherin to dangle in the capricious winds of fate and chance?  Snape didn’t _want_ to become a Death Eater, that much was patently obvious; but would the Headmaster help him avoid it?  Snape was “just a Slytherin,” after all.  “He’ll end up a Death Eater anyway, you know...”

 _Would_ Albus Dumbledore actually do nothing to help a boy who was quite obviously being abused, whose home-life could be nothing but pure Hell--who was being forced into service to He Who Must Not Be Named against his own will?  A boy directly under his responsibility as a student at Hogwarts?  James didn’t want to think that about the Headmaster; but he wasn’t naïve enough any longer to discount the possibility.  He’d just have to wait and see.

If nothing else--he was absolutely certain that his own father would take steps, once he knew.  Part of his frantically whirling thoughts were diverted from fretting by composing the letter home he’d be sending, just as soon as he could get to the Owlry.  Granted, knowing his parents, this might just end up with Snape living in James’ own house, with his family...

Grim resolve flowed into James as he realized he’d actually be willing to put up with the snarky git, knowing what he now knew.  Maybe -

Maybe if he actually got to really know the true Severus Snape, rather than what he’d always assumed about the boy...they might actually become sort-of friends.  Lily had been arguing that for years.  He supposed now that it might be vaguely, eventually possible.  _Lily_ was friends with the Slytherin, after all!  There must be _something_ likable about him...when the Marauders weren’t around to provoke him, anyway.

Or at the least, maybe, possibly, James and Snape could become allies...

Oh, Sirius was not going to like _that!_

****

**_To be continued..._ **

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _**A/N, cont.:** As a classmate to Snape and the Marauders, either as a Gryffindor or a Slytherin, I’d have gua-ran-TEED they had reason to knock it off with the incessant pranks--and that Dumbledore would have gotten more Howlers than he knew how to deal with, if he so much as considered letting them off easy for the harassment! ::growling and snorting fire for a moment:: I wouldn’t have been pranking them back, either; I’d have been asking for help where appropriate--from other students, other Houses, adults there or at home, whatever it took. I’m practical that way.  >=} (This actually means I’d have probably sic’ed Mommy on Dumbledore. Fire-breathing dragons ain’t got NOTHIN’ on my Mom in a child-defending temper!! She makes Molly Weasley seem almost an indifferent parent, on the protectiveness scale! She doesn’t coddle, but BOY can she defend!!) _   
>  _I also tend to not give the reactions pranksters are looking for, if they’ve gotten carried away...catching a nuclear blast in the face when you were expecting a firecracker at the most tends to be a tad bit discouraging for most pranksters. Especially when the blast encourages a chain reaction of the undesirable kind of ‘destruction.’ I’m one of those shy, small, quiet, forgettable ones who scare the bejeezus out of the tough guys when my temper actually manifests. >=]_   
>  _A-hem. That said, I don’t think the Marauders were incorrigible--they just didn’t get the strict guidance and discipline they needed while at school. So much of their potential was lost, or at least delayed until they could finally get around to growing up. For instance, imagine how the story would have changed if Sirius had learned some self-control, before tearing off vengeance-bound after Peter? So I decided to write something where the process starts before they graduate._   
>  _I firmly believe that judicious humorous pranking, **that does no harm,** is fine--and that includes actual harm to the target’s **image,** which includes their self-image. Completely and utterly humiliating someone is not a simple prank--that’s just plain cruelty, and the damage lasts much longer than broken bones. Pranking someone continually, day-in and day-out, is also Not Fine. Basically, if your target is not laughing **with** you, you’ve gone too far, and immediate apologies are owed. Some folks just shouldn’t be pranked unless you’ve taken the time to become real friends with ‘em first, and make sure they understand it’s not meant with ill-will! And bystanders should never be inconvenienced unduly, much less harmed in direct consequence of a prank. That’s just not on! _   
>  _I also **don’t** like pranks in the classroom, **during lessons.** There’s a time and a place for pranking, just like with everything else; allowing it to happen all the time does the pranksters no favors in the long run of Life (it can easily cost them well-paying jobs in the future--VERY few employers will put up with pranksters), and it ruins the lives of the victims who can’t get away from it even to complete their education. _   
> 


	2. Chapter 2

“Hey, hey!  What’ve you got there, Prongs?  Looks like you’ve caught a slimy little snake!”

James jumped, horribly startled, barely managing to keep his magic steady about Snape as he suddenly found himself facing an evilly smirking Sirius Black strutting out from the shadows surrounding the closest Hogwarts entrance to the Forbidden Forest.  James bent at the waist and panted out the surge of adrenaline his friend’s sudden and unexpected appearance had shot through him, bracing arms on thighs and willing his thudding heart to slow, barely remembering to keep his grip on his wand and at least part of his attention on his spell.  He didn’t dare take long to recover; Sirius was heading straight for Snape, wand out, casually waving it in preparation to lazily cast a likely painful hex at the temptingly still Slytherin.  James quickly straightened and rushed to put himself between Sirius and his favorite target.

“No, Sirius; leave him alone.  I’m taking him to Madam Pomfrey; he’s--he’s really hurt.”  James swallowed, trying not to shiver at the events and revelations of the evening.

“Ah, just leave him here; somebody will find him, eventually,” Sirius said carelessly, waving one hand and grinning with true malice in his eyes that James had never before questioned--or ever really noticed, truth to tell.

James stared at his best friend, stomach queasy as he realized that just hours ago, he’d have been agreeing with Sirius--if not suggesting it himself!--without ever bothering to find out just what had happened to Snape.  He’s have assumed, as Sirius obviously did, that the Slytherin had deserved it.  It would never have occurred to either of them that Snape might be hurt badly enough that he’d _die_ without proper medical care...and if told, they’d probably not have cared in the least.  He swallowed hard, disgust at himself and his friends churning through him as he stared at his best friend, whose grin was slowly dimming into confusion as James just stared at him with that strange, vaguely sick look.

Shaking his head, James turned and continued to carefully guide Snape into the school, determined to get him to the school nurse for proper care as soon as he could.  He turned and directed over his shoulder, “Go on back to the Tower, Padfoot; I’ll be up in a while.”

Sirius gaped after him, stunned speechless and beginning to suspect hexes--or Polyjuice!  Since when did James Potter give a damn about any Slytherin?  Especially _this_ one!  The slimy gits only got what they deserved; sneaking around, spying on honest Gryffindors, hexing from behind your back!  Feeling a not so vague sense of outrage growing, and never once considering as James now did that _he_ fit that description much better than he thought any Slytherin did--except for the spying on honest Gryffindors part; make that Slytherins instead--Sirius stalked after his friend, determined to find out just what was going on here!

Hearing footsteps behind him, James glanced over his shoulder and saw the stubborn set to Sirius’ face, the determined stiffness to his posture.  Knowing better than to waste effort arguing, James rolled his eyes and shook his head, trying to keep track of just what Sirius was doing at any particular moment while still keeping from bumping Snape into a wall or something.  The Slytherin’s twitching hadn’t subsided at all; James knew just enough about the Unforgivable curse Snape’s father had used from his own Auror father to know that Snape needed treatment, as quickly as possible.

The trick would be keeping Sirius from hexing the helpless boy before they got there.

Seven minutes of whinging, moaning, complaining, and even some near-desperate pleading from Sirius later, James was immensely relieved to be standing in front of the doors to the Hospital Wing.  Sirius hadn’t listened to a single thing he’d said, and James was about ready to hex his friend if he didn’t shut up soon!  No, they were _not_ going to hex Snape; they were _not_ going to just leave him laying about somewhere for some poor first-year to find, Merlin forbid he should _die_ first; and they were absolutely _not_ going to bounce him off the walls or ceiling all the way there...!  Highly irritated both by Sirius’ whining and the revelations he’d suffered through that night, James turned and snapped harshly at his friend, “Just get the doors open!”  He glared at Sirius, still keeping himself protectively between his friend and Snape.

Sirius looked outraged and wounded all at once at the unexpected tone, but after a moment’s hesitation, he did step around to do as James said, exaggeratedly keeping his distance from the floating Slytherin, as if afraid of catching something from him.

James scowled, heartily wishing Sirius had just gone back up to Gryffindor Tower when he’d told him to.  He just _knew_ his friend was going to be a major pain about James’ new decision to help Snape keep out of the Death Eater ranks, and was not looking forward to dealing with it.  Hopefully at least Remus would be open-minded about it, especially as Peter would probably call him crazy and hide behind Sirius for the rest of term.  At least Peter wouldn’t work against him without direction from either Sirius or Remus.

On the bright side, Lily Evans would now maybe, possibly, finally look on him with something other than contemptuous disgust, for a change.  She was actually friends with Snape--had been since before they came to Hogwarts.  Perking up considerably at that sudden thought, selfish though it was, James continued his careful maneuvering until he had Snape hovering over the nearest hospital bed, yelling for Madam Pomfrey as he _gently_ , gently, lowered a twitching Snape to rest on the mattress.

Sirius stared in mute outrage at this friendly treatment of their long time arch-nemesis as James wiped a hand over his brow, the strain of using that spell for the first time and for so long catching up to him with a vengeance and making his knees feel like jelly.  There were reasons spells like that weren’t taught until the upper years; young witches and wizards needed to grow into their magic, physically and mentally as well as magically.  His distracted thoughts while holding the spell hadn’t helped, either.  Slumping against the bed, James looked up at the sound of quickly approaching footsteps to see Madam Pomfrey in her normal Healer’s robes and cap heading for them like a warship under full sail, face thunderous and concerned at the same time.

“Mr. Potter!  Mr. Black!  What in Merlin’s name are you two doing up at this time of night, and _what_ in Merlin’s name have you done to--”  Her eyes widened and her concern and anger both increased as she came close enough to identify the student on the bed, “Mr. Snape?!”  Her sharp-eyed gaze speared into James as she waited impatiently for an explanation, reminding him of a volcano on the verge of erupting.

Taking a deep breath to steady himself, James glanced once at Sirius in nervous concern, knowing very well that in Snape’s place, _he_ would be upset enough at being rescued by one of his arch-enemies--but Snape was going to go absolutely _ballistic_ when he found out that _Sirius Black_ knew what had happened, as well.  James didn’t think there was any way he could avoid telling Sirius at least some of it, though, or his friend would definitely and actively work to sabotage anything James did to try and help Snape.  If James was very, very lucky, he _might_ be able to keep a lid on Sirius’ darker tendencies towards pranking and insults, at least as regards _this_.  It should strike close enough to home for Sirius to not want to breathe a word about it to anyone else, considering the bad blood between Sirius and his own family.  If nothing else, James could bring that up to Sirius’ face if he started mouthing off about it.

There was no help for it.  James decided to just talk fast and get it all out before the outraged screaming could start, or Mount Saint Pomfrey blew up on him.

“Madam Pomfrey--I found him out on the edge of the Forest, he was meeting his father--that’s a horrible man, really _horrible!_   He _cursed_ Snape--with an _Unforgivable!”_   Earnest brown eyes bored into the nurse’s shocked gaze as he poured out his confession in a breathless rush, “I didn’t do anything to him, honest--I just thought Mobilicorpus was the best way to get him to you; I didn’t knock him into anything, or hurt him any more, I was really careful--it was all his _father!--_ he held the _Cruciatus_ on him-- _twice!!_ \--for a couple minutes or so each time--I think I heard a bone break!--and he was saying some of the worst things to Snape, how could a father _treat_ his own son like that--!!”

“Hold!  Stop, Mr. Potter!”  The Medi-Witch’s sharp command cut through his growing hysteria, stopping the nearly uncontrollable flow of words.  Madam Pomfrey and Sirius were both staring at him with shocked looks.  The nurse took a shaky breath of her own and directed an almost hyperventilating James, “Take a deep breath, now, dear--that’s it.  Now let it out; now another...  Yes, that’s it,” she nodded encouragingly at James as he drew slow, shaky breaths.  “Do you need a Calming Draught?”

James shook his head jerkily as she peered at him in patent disbelief.  He struggled to keep his suddenly exploding panic under control, grateful he hadn’t gone to pieces before then.  If he took a Calming Draught before he was certain Sirius was going to behave himself, he might not be quick enough to fend off his friend’s sneaky hexes at Snape--granted Sirius looked too shocked at the moment to consider anything; but James would bet galleons he’d be diving into the River Denial at any moment.  Finally the nurse nodded, though not totally convinced.

“Let me see if I understand you correctly, Mr. Potter.  You saw Mr. Snape’s own father hold the--” her voice went disbelieving in a shocked way, “the Cruciatus on him, twice, for a couple minutes each time?”  Her incredulous gaze took in James’ mute nod, the uncharacteristic and seemingly genuine anguished concern on his face; then she turned to Snape and paled as she truly noticed the distinct tremors throughout his whole body for the first time, without James’ panic to distract her.

James and Sirius found themselves hustled out of the way as Madam Pomfrey went to work with a will, flitting about her patient and casting Accio to call various potions and salves to her from the Hospital storage cabinets as she coaxed the semi-conscious boy to take the potions; rubbing three different salves into his quivering skin at various places in quick succession; all while waving her wand frequently in diagnostic spells to keep track of the progress of her efforts and somehow, in the midst of crooning comfortingly during her ministering she’d gotten him changed into Hospital pajamas...  James found himself almost getting dizzy trying to keep track of everything she was doing, he had no idea how she did it all practically at once!  She even, with a rather negligent wave of her wand and without looking, raised Sirius up and firmly planted him to sit on a bed farther down the row with a Sticking Charm to his seat, when he first showed signs of thinking her too occupied to notice him tossing a casual hex at Snape.

James had just barely noticed the danger signs; he had no idea how the Medi-Witch had managed to notice, with her back practically turned on his friend!  That went beyond any mere magic.

It was with a sense of great relief that James noticed, about a half hour later, that Snape had finally stopped most of that uncontrollable, continuous twitching and trembling and seemed to at last be resting almost peacefully.  He was still even paler than normal for him, his thin face rather pinched with discomfort even asleep, looking disturbingly like death warmed over; but James was reassured by the nurse’s muttered commentary that there was no permanent damage.  Snape would be confined to the Hospital Wing for several days, not least because he couldn’t be given any Skele-Gro to mend his broken arm until certain other potions were out of his system, and she definitely wanted the residual tremors to have finally stopped completely before he could go _anywhere_ out of her sight.

James sighed in relief.

The sound drew Madam Pomfrey’s attention.  She looked around at the two Gryffindors, gave Snape’s blanket a final tuck and a laid a firm but gentle pat to his shoulder, then walked over to them.  (James, deciding discretion was the better part of valor, had gone to stand by his best friend early on--mainly in the interest of not getting himself likewise Stuck there.)  Her gaze was suspicious, but also curious.  She came to a stop in front of them, staring mainly at James.

“Mr. Potter.  The Headmaster should be here momentarily; he’ll expect a complete explanation, of course, though in this particular case I suspect he will be pleasantly surprised at your behavior, instead of his usual disappointment.”  Her stern glare shifted to Sirius, then softened slightly as it came back to a slightly shell-shocked James, who wondered when in Merlin’s name she’d had _time_ to summon the Headmaster--never mind how!  She’d never left Snape’s side!  She nodded decisively as she said, “Just wait right here.”  She turned on her heel and walked back to Snape’s bedside, making one more check before wandering tiredly off to her office to pull Snape’s file and be certain it had automatically updated, and to add some personal notes to it.  She left her door open so she would have a clear view of her patient--and the two Gryffindors.

James was rather surprised she’d left them even that close to alone with Snape, what with their four-year history, even with the Sticking charm still on Sirius.  He’d noticed before that the Medi-Witch had a surprising soft spot for this particular Slytherin, for whatever reason; he’d have expected her to stand over them with a continuous glare and her wand at the ready until the Headmaster arrived.

“So.”

James twitched nervously as that deceptively soft word came from beside him.  He slid his eyes sideways to Sirius.  “...So.”

“His old man...and an Unforgiveable?”  Sirius was staring intently at Snape, but at least his expression lacked the usual edge of hatred he usually wore for the Slytherin.  He didn’t look like he was plotting anything--yet.  His voice was remarkably neutral, for Sirius, with just a hint of disbelief and confusion to it.

James swallowed and tried to think what to say.  He _knew_ Sirius was going to be impossible about this--!

The Headmaster’s arrival saved James from a likely explosion, at least for a while.

“Mr. Potter, Mr. Black.  Madame Pomfrey tells me you’ve brought something of an interesting situation to the Hospital Wing...?”  Twinkling blue eyes pinned both boys as Albus Dumbledore stepped in front of them from seemingly nowhere, reinforcing his reputation as being able to do the impossible--in this case, Apparating within Hogwarts, without even a pop on arrival for warning.  He cocked his head, his lumpy, misshapen fuchsia hat tilting precariously.

James swallowed and tried not to squint at the fluorescent shades of the Headmaster’s robes, which seemed _much_ too bright to look at long enough to even roughly identify the eye-watering colors swirling about on them.  His white hair and beard seemed almost dull in comparison as James fixed his eyes on the Headmaster’s face, and the expression of patient expectation he wore.

“Headmaster...I’m sorry...really I am, but this time, I think it was a really, really good thing that I snuck out of the Tower.”  Earnest hazel eyes locked with twinkling blue that held just a hint of humorous disbelief.  “I saw Snape sneaking through the hallways on my way to the kitchens, and I--I followed him...”  James looked down briefly, embarrassed and slightly ashamed of himself; knowing the Headmaster _must_ know his motives then were a whole lot less than pure.  He looked back up and with a deep breath went on, “I know I shouldn’t have kept following when he left the castle and headed for the Forbidden Forest, but--well anyway; I saw him meeting up with some guy, an adult.  I was just close enough to hear what they were saying, and--and--!”

Concern overrode the twinkle in the Headmaster’s eyes as he reached a steadying hand to James’ shoulder.  “Easy, Mr. Potter.  Take a deep breath; calm yourself, then tell me.”

James took a couple shuddery breaths, nervous energy jittering through his veins, and tried to calm down again, at least enough to speak clearly.  He closed his eyes for a moment, then looked back up at the Headmaster and nodded.

“It was Snape’s _father,_ Headmaster!  He said the most _horrible_ things...!  He _threatened_ Snape--told him he was going to, to take the Dark Mark, or else he’d end up like his mother!  And when Snape still told him he wouldn’t--the man cast the _Cruciatus_ on him!  On his _own son!  Twice,_ yet!  I thought he was going to _kill him!!_   So I--”  Another deep breath; James determinedly refused to so much as glance at Sirius.  “I ran over between them and yelled at him to stop.  I know it was stupid--but something in the Forest made noise then, like somebody running towards the castle; I yelled for “Padfoot” to “go, get the Headmaster,” and it fooled him--he Apparated away.  I didn’t know what to do for Snape; he looked--he looked like he was in a bad way.  So I tried Mobilicorpus, and it worked, and I brought him here to the Hospital Wing.”  James swallowed again, fighting a suspicious sting in his eyes, and remembered to add on, “--Sirius must have woken up and noticed I was out of bed, and he came looking for me; he met me at the entry...”

(Brand new attack of conscience or not, there was no way James was admitting to the constantly self-updating map of Hogwarts he and his friends had painstakingly made.  There was just no good reason for a student to have possession of such a thing, and James knew it!  Hopefully the Headmaster would think it was luck that put Sirius at the entrance James used to get back into the castle proper.)

James held the Headmaster’s eyes, almost pleading, though he wasn’t sure what for.  He only knew his whole world had been turned on end this night, and he was suddenly overwhelmed with the childish desire for the Headmaster to put things right.

Dumbledore’s eyes shadowed, and he glanced over at Snape for the first time since he’d arrived.  James frowned when the Headmaster looked back after the briefest look and giving one small, disappointed sigh.  His earlier suspicions came roaring back to the front of his mind--especially with the Headmaster’s next words.

“It’s a shame, but I’m certain Madam Pomfrey has things well in hand now; she’ll have Mr. Snape up and about in no time.  In the meantime, you and Mr. Black should get back to your beds.”  The Headmaster spoke with a tone of finality, the twinkle back in his eyes.

A wave of disappointment swept over James, even as Sirius shrugged and headed for the doors to head back to the Tower.  James refused to leave things at that; if there was hope to keep Severus Snape on the side of the Light, James could himself testify that the boy had potential enough to make it worthwhile to help him.  After all, Snape had held his own against the Pride of Gryffindor for four years, at four to one odds; as well as defying a father as horrible as what James had seen!  The more he thought on it, the more he was convinced that Snape _had_ been arguing with the Sorting Hat, all those years ago.  His Sorting had taken nearly five whole minutes!   _Had_ he been arguing himself out of, James’ mind whispered the House of his growing conviction, _Gryffindor?_

He’d opened his mouth and started talking before realizing he was even going to say anything.  From the corner of his eye, he registered Sirius spinning about to stare at him with his jaw agape.

“Headmaster, how are you going to help Snape?  You’ve got to do something!  His father--he’ll _kill_ him!  We can’t just let that happen!”

Dumbledore gave him a stern look over his half-moon spectacles.  “Mr. Potter.  Your distress for a classmate does you credit, but it’s really none of your concern.  Please go to bed.”

Reluctantly, disillusionment and outrage building from the pit of his stomach and rising to burn the back of his throat, James backed away from the Headmaster, disappointment weighing on him like a lead blanket.  Dumbledore watched him, a slight frown furrowing the old man’s brow as James’ expression seemed to confuse him.  James had just enough self-control--and self preservation!--to not boldly demand if the Headmaster would have helped Snape were he a Gryffindor.  Only someone else on the Wizengamot would likely be able to pin Dumbledore with that question long enough to make the powerful old wizard really _think_ about his answer, anyway.

James spun and stalked by a skeptically confused Sirius to bang noisily out the doors in a juvenile show of temper, not caring if the Headmaster might be disappointed in his behavior-- _he_ was seriously disappointed in the _Headmaster’s_ behavior!  The man hadn’t even bothered with a false platitude about naturally helping all the students under his care!  He’d just brushed the whole question off!

Sirius yelped and ran after him, barely catching sight of James who took off running for all he was worth once through the doors, grimacing and glaring at nothing as he fought to control his newfound, absolutely crushing disappointment in the Headmaster.  His eyes watered with angry tears he refused to shed as he ran, making the corridors waver as he pelted through them.

The man had _no_ intention of helping Snape--James just knew it!  He wasn’t going to even _try!!_

Sirius was breathless when he caught up to James at the sleepy and disapproving portrait of the Fat Lady, unable to even ask what the matter was.  James took three tries to gasp out the password, then slammed through when she glared and reluctantly swung open for him, eliciting a squeal of protest and an only vaguely lady-like imprecation hollered after him.  Sirius grimaced and dashed through after his friend, not even bothering with a “sorry”.  It was only a painting, after all.

James was burrowing in his trunk when Sirius got to their dorm, not taking much care to keep quiet.  Remus was stirring at the rustling noise of cloth and papers and the occasional _thump_ as something heavier flew out to hit the floor, but Peter was snoring blithely away, prone to sleep through Armageddon unless it fell directly on top of him.  Sirius eyed his smaller friend speculatively, somewhat distracted, a slow grin tugging at his mouth as he wondered just how he should wake the other boy.

A blank roll of parchment, a slightly ruffled looking quill and a dented inkwell finally landed on James’ rumpled bed.  James plopped down next to them and quickly sorted them into order, shoving a clear spot on his nightstand to serve as a writing surface.  Sirius watched with gaping mouth as James started writing furiously.  Remus sat up in his bed and stared drowsily at James, then looked to Sirius, who glanced over and shrugged to say he had no clue what James was doing.

Twenty minutes and multiple furious crossings-out and re-writes later, James had a letter he was apparently satisfied with.  He rolled it up and sealed it with a charm, then stood up, only to see Sirius and Remus staring at him from Remus’ bed, Peter kneeling behind them with his blankets half off one pajama-clad shoulder; all three looking bemused.  He chuffed out a sort-of laugh, and sat back down on his bed.

“I guess you guys would like an explanation...?”  He gave them a rather sickly excuse for a smile, wistfully hoping they’d let him off until daylight, but knowing they never would.  The clouding of Sirius’ face as his flighty attention returned to what had happened in the Hospital Wing told him he’d better get his explanation out before Sirius confused everything.

Remus spoke up first.  “You guessed right.  What’s with the sudden urge for correspondence?  You were too absorbed to even notice us asking while you were writing--you didn’t even notice Sirius waking Peter.”  Remus’ eyebrows were up, his faintly scarred face set in an expression of polite curiosity that meant he’d keep digging--politely, of course--until he got an answer.  Peter watched avidly, hoping for something interesting, as he’d been literally yanked out of a sound sleep 9with much yelping and squealing on his part) by Sirius to watch James writing like a madman.  Sirius snorted, slinging one arm on Remus’ shoulder and slouching on him as he stared at James with a mix of curiosity, exasperation and confusion.  All he’d told his newly-wakened friends was that James had followed Snape into the Forbidden Forest earlier, ended up taking _that_ Slytherin to the Hospital Wing, and had been acting weird ever since.  Sirius had been too confused to get around to accusing Snape of hexing their friend, yet.

With a big sigh, James slumped over the scroll in his hands, gripping it tightly, then straightened up and stared intently at his best friends.  “I discovered some things tonight; things my father needs to know about, since Dumbledore doesn’t seem to want to deal with it.”

Peter jerked upright while Remus gaped, but Sirius snorted in disbelief, crossing his arms and hunching forward over his knees.  He let out a growl and said, “It’s just Snape!  What do you want the Headmaster to do?  He’s a _Slytherin!”_

“Knock it off, Padfoot; he’s a kid, just like us!  Anybody who’s brave enough to face off against--what he stood up to tonight, should have been in Gryffindor, anyway!!”

Remus and Peter fell backwards gaping at James’ vehemence, Peter springing up to bounce right onto Remus’ bed.  Sirius shot to his feet and glared, shouting, “He’s a _Slytherin!_   They’re _evil_ , Prongs!  _All_ Slytherins grow up to be Dark, you _know_ that!  Why in Merlin’s name would you want to help one of the Darkest?!  What in hell did you _see_ out there?!!  What did he hex you with!?!”

James also stood, glaring back from mere inches away and without even the faintest hint of willingness to back down.  “I saw a young man brave enough to bear the _Cruciatus_ curse-- _twice!!_ \--just to _refuse_ to serve the Dark Lord!  Defying his own father, who said he’d _kill_ _him_ if he didn’t take that Mark!  I believe he’ll do it, too!  I saw somebody who I realized I’ve completely, totally, and utterly _misjudged_ for four years--because you know what?  Do you know why that scrawny, ugly little kid was sniveling so much on our first Express ride here...?  _Do_ you?!”  James poked Sirius in the chest, even as his friend backed away one step, then another at this completely unexpected ferocity.  James got within a couple inches of Sirius’ face to all but spit his next furious words, “The kid we immediately started picking on for being a wimp, without one question to him...”  James paused and drew a shuddering breath, fighting that prickling feeling in his eyes as he went on, “Just the night before, that _eleven year old boy_ had discovered his mother’s _mutilated corpse_ in her bedroom, right there in his house!”

James had finally remembered all the gossip and news stories he’d barely paid attention to, back when he first started Hogwarts.  His parents hadn’t managed to shield him from everything, especially not once he was away at Hogwarts.  He’d gotten a glimpse of an actual partial picture of Snape’s mother’s body that had been printed on the front page of The Daily Prophet during his first ever breakfast in the Great Hall.

Remus and Peter stared at him in horror, Peter’s hands clamped to Remus’ shoulders, while a stunned Sirius dropped limply back onto the foot of Remus’ bed, nearly missing it to go sprawling on the floor.  James fisted his shaking hands, trying not to destroy the scroll he’d just written to his father.  His voice cracked and broke as he said, “Yeah.  Like any of _us_ would’ve been dry-eyed, after something like _that._   Especially as it--it sounds like it was _his own father_ who killed her...!”

There was silence for a few minutes as James tried to get control over his wild emotions, staring down at his hands with prickling eyes threatening to drip tears as he sank back down on his own bed.  Shame and remorse had flooded through him so strongly he was afraid he’d start blubbering any minute.  After a while, he heard a quiet, strangled sound and looked up into Sirius’ tormented blue eyes.

“...He... _he_ found her...?”

James nodded grimly.

“And...and we-- _I_ \--I made fun...of his grief...?”  Sirius’ expression went sickly, then haunted, as his imagination painted scenes of blood and horror for his mind’s eye.  Sirius had seen that front-page photo, too, though James wasn’t sure that’s what his friend was remembering.  He didn’t recall that either of them had really noticed a name to go with the article--the seventh-year who’d been reading the paper had whipped it shut and stuffed it into his bag the moment he’d noticed ickle firsties within range to see it.

Sirius shuddered briefly, unwillingly sympathizing with the boy he’d been hating so much for so long, now.  James’ lips quirked in a sad hint of a smile; Sirius wasn’t stupid, after all--just prejudiced.  If you rubbed his nose in something hard enough, for long enough, he’d even sometimes admit to getting your point.

“Pads...remember how long his Sorting took...?  I’d bet you a bag full of galleons he was talking the Hat _out_ of putting him in our House, just like you talked it out of putting you in Slytherin.  The scary part is, he took twice as long to do it as you did.”  Meaning, the Hat had believed Snape to be more Gryffindor than Sirius was Slytherin, at least at the time they were Sorted.

James held Sirius’ eyes as his friend suddenly looked like he’d just been gut-punched.  Conflicting emotions fought over his expression.  They had four years of dedicated enmity with Severus Snape, after all, and the Slytherin had certainly given as good as he got.  The hard feelings ran both ways, and they ran deep; each party had caused sometimes rather serious damage to the other.  Even with the completely uneven odds against Snape, he’d still managed to hold his own against them.

Sirius had to realize, though, that after their behavior on the Express, it was hardly surprising Snape might have fought tooth and nail to _not_ share a dorm with them.  There’s no way Snape would ever have been put in Hufflepuff, not with the way that boy held grudges.  That was likely what got him put in Slytherin instead of Ravenclaw, the bookworm’s House.

After another silent time, James quietly spoke his worst fear.  “I don’t think Dumbledore’s going to do anything to help Snape get away from his father.”  He looked grimly at each of his friends.  “I think Dumbledore’s written off the whole of Slytherin House as soon as they’re Sorted, and can’t see that any of them are worth anything.”  His eyes hardened as he stood and started to pace restlessly.  “I don’t agree with that--not after what I saw!  I think Snape could be a strong ally once we’re out of school; just look how he’s stood up to _all_ of _us_ , all by himself!  His Housemates certainly never help him.  He’s always taken care for bystanders in our feud, too, even when we don’t--and have any of _us_ bothered to apologize for disrupting classes, our teachers’ schedules, or our fellow students?  Snape always does!  Even when it was _our_ hexes that caused the problem, not his.  Slytherin or no, if you look really closely at the last four years, _we_ certainly haven’t been the ones behaving like true Gryffindors--bloody hell, _we’ve_ been behaving just like we’ve always accused the Slytherins!”

Remus and Peter were staring at him wide-eyed, jaws agape.  Remus’ expression was guilty; of them all, he was quite well aware of just how much in the wrong they’d usually been, though he’d never tried too hard to change things, for fear of losing their friendship.  Peter was shaking his head slightly in disbelief, though James could see his unwilling acknowledgment of the truth.  Sirius was still too shocked to have gotten around to the rest of his reaction yet; James would bet on his friend being a right bear for weeks after this, until it all sank in and stuck--after about a ‘zillion repeats of tonight’s speech.  The only thing Sirius hatedmore than being wrong, was being _told_ he’d been wrong--unless it was for school work, which he didn’t take seriously to start with, probably because most of it wasn’t that hard for him.

Gritting his teeth, James pressed his point.  “If Snape’s against the Dark Lord, then he’s our ally; and even if he’d rather go off and disappear into neutrality, he _doesn’t_ deserve to be left to face that--that _creature_ that is his father, all on his own!  If the Headmaster doesn’t help him, who else is going to?  How could we ever again call ourselves Gryffindors, if we let that happen?!  I know my father will agree; he and Mum have given me enough lectures when I’m home, about tolerance and such...”  He gave Sirius a sickly grin as the other boy winced; James’ father didn’t keep all his lectures just for his own offspring, he was quite willing to share them out.  “I wouldn’t be surprised if I end up with a semi-permanent house-guest over the holidays, knowing Mum.”

James shuddered, knowing he’d then discover first-hand just how snide and biting Severus Snape could truly _be_ , when he put his mind to it.  There was no way the Slytherin would be falling-down grateful for being saved by a _Gryffindor!_   James’ mum would likely have to drag the Slytherin into their home, kicking, screaming and hexing the whole way.

Sirius shuddered in sympathy, only half jokingly; he _knew_ James’ mother.  He couldn’t wrap his mind around the thought of livingwith Severus Snape in the same home, though!  How horrible _that_ would be...  His mind was treating the information like it was about someone else, and not the “slimy no-good git Slytherin” he’d been out to get since they started Hogwarts.  He’d hated Snape on sight, and wasn’t keen on admitting he’d had not even a vague hint of a good reason for it.  Then he’d have to admit he was no better than his Muggle-hating family, all of whom he hated with a passion--including his Slytherin git of a little brother, Regulus; who’d betrayed their childhood pact to be in the same House at Hogwarts, to instead be Mumsie’s and Dadsie’s Good Little Boy.  Sirius had spent nearly the whole of his meager fourteen years trying to be their opposite!  His sense of betrayal had put his little brother firmly in the Slytherin Enemy category at Hogwarts, as his second-favorite target for his cruelest pranking, though he couldn’t indulge often against Regulus without their Mum’s howlers descending on him with a vengeance.

James was talking again, his manner rather subdued.  “I’m going to owl this account to my father right now.  That way, when--uh, even _if_ Dumbledore does fail Snape, he _will_ have help.”  James, a bit embarrassed to have let his new distrust for the Headmaster slip out so blatantly, stood and walked out of the room, his friends staring after him.  Sirius looked rather mutinous; it was _Snape,_ after all...but Remus was approving.  Poor Peter just looked bewildered, waiting on the other two to decide what he would do.

As James reached the door, Remus jumped up and grabbed his school robe, hastily shrugging it on over his pajamas as he called out, “I’ll go with you!”

Sirius looked at Peter.  A worried Peter stared back.  A minute later, the dorm was empty, all four Marauders on their way to the Owlry.

 

**_To Be Continued..._ **


	3. Chapter 3

It was midmorning when Severus Snape woke to find himself lying in a bed in the all-too-familiar Hogwarts Infirmary.  His body felt tired and sluggish, and rather numb all over.  All of the oddly mild, involuntary twitches of various muscle groups told him that last night hadn’t all been a nightmare, in spite of the odd lack of true pain.  Madam Pomfrey certainly knew what she was doing.  At least, he _hoped_ it was only last night...every other time his father had Crucio’d him, he’d been in a fair bit of pain for several days after, and hard-put to suppress the residual shaking.  There’d been no way he could ask anyone for help in dealing with it, though, his father would quite literally kill him for being dangerously useless if Severus ever told anyone.

How he _hated_ seeing that deceptively nondescript barn owl heading towards him of a morning, bearing another much-dreaded summons to meet his father somewhere just outside the castle.  Thank Merlin it was never more than once a month!  Those summons always, _always_ ended with him in a fair bit of pain, of one type or another.  But skiving off wouldn’t do him any good; Tobias Snape would just be that much more furious with his son the next time the man got his hands on him.  Severus was naturally never given permission to stay at Hogwarts over any holiday, not for any reason.

It wasn’t like he had anywhere else he could go, to escape the man.  Even if Lily had offered, her house was quite simply too close to his and definitely not magically warded at all, let alone anywhere near strong enough to keep his father out.  Being under-age, neither of them could correct that problem--both for fear of expulsion from Hogwarts for using under-age magic, and because there was no way they’d be able to do anything strong enough to work, anyway.  And Severus would _die_ before he let his bastard of a father set his wand to Lily!!

He wasn’t quite sure what his father expected him to tell Madam Pomfrey had happened to him.  It would have been excruciatingly clear to her what curse he’d suffered, or she’d never have been able to so successfully treat it.  It was equally obvious that no student at Hogwarts would have been able to cast an Unforgivable of such strength.  They simply weren’t old enough to be magically mature enough--even the handful of prodigies.  That left one of the teaching staff, which would be pretty much unthinkable--or someone unauthorized who’d gotten onto the grounds, which would have everyone going over the wards and security procedures for the castle with the proverbial fine-toothed comb.

 _(That_ certainly wouldn’t set well with Tobias.  Severus felt a grim sort of smile pulling his lips back from tightly clenched teeth.  He was all in favor of anything that annoyed his father--anything that _he_ wouldn’t be held responsible for, anyway.)

All of which meant one Severus Snape was going to be thoroughly grilled in whatever way would get him to spill the identity of whoever cast the curses on him, even if they had to use a Pensieve and watch his memories for themselves.  Or maybe one of them would try Legilimency on him--he’d bet the Headmaster knew the mind-reading spell, and was probably very good at it.  That was the main reason Severus was reluctant to ever look the old man directly in the eyes; he refused to make it easy for Dumbledore to steal his thoughts the way his father did upon occasion.

Severus really didn’t fancy the thought of _anyone_ else actually seeing what his bastard of a father had done to him.  It was embarrassing enough when Madam Pomfrey had taken to seeking him out whenever he returned to school, to patch him back together.  At least she didn’t lecture him on anything but taking it easy until her healing magics had worked fully on him; he couldn’t handle anyone’s pity, especially as no one could offer him an alternative but for caving in to his father’s wishes.

Since coming to Hogwarts, Severus had started entertaining the idea that, _may_ be, _he_ wasn’t the one at fault, all those times his father so painfully cursed him--that maybe, just _maybe,_ that _wasn’t_ how fathers were truly supposed to treat their only sons.  That his father might be the “bad” one, delighting in causing him pain.  Being the brunt of the Marauders’ attentions hadn’t exactly helped him with this idea; they’d started in on him without ever bothering to get to know anything about him, and were hardly ever punished at all for hurting him--while sometimes he was punished without having gotten a single hex off at them.  But then, there were the horror stories he’d found out about some of his fellow Slytherins, that weren’t that far off from his own ‘family’ experiences...things others insisted weren’t their faults.

He wasn’t sure the rest were telling the truth about their idyllic-seeming home lives, or if they were simply weaving tales they wished were true.  _He_ certainly never spoke of his own home life.  Though the letters and packages many of his classmates got from home were always eagerly awaited and left them in quite happy moods when they came...

Lily--his first and only real friend--was the one to first even get him to suspect things could be different.

 _Her_ parents would never _dream_ of hurting her.  Or even of hurting him, who wasn’t even remotely of their blood.  As a matter of fact, though he tried not to think about it, Lily’s parents had patched him up numerous times when he was a child, when Lily would drag his aching carcass over to her house as soon as she figured out he was hurting.

It had taken the Muggle couple a good week to recover from their shock when they found out that there were spells that could be used on wizard children to simulate pain, without leaving any physical evidence for it.  He hadn’t elaborated; he’d just whispered that there was magic to do that, not even admitting that’s what he was suffering from, let alone who had done it to him.

That had been Severus’ first ever experience of a hug.  Mr. and Mrs. Evans had securely wrapped him in their arms, tucking him between them, as if they’d like to protect him from the world at large.  It was his second-most treasured memory ever, right behind Lily saying she wanted to be friends with him.

Lily’s parents seemed to become more and more worried for him over the years, trying to get him to admit who was doing such unspeakable things to him; going from hinting, to outright telling him that they’d be more than willing to help him get away from the abuse; even trying to counsel him as best they could in how to deal with it.  He’d caught sight of the Muggle books appearing on their bookshelves dealing with child psychology and child abuse, that they’d bought over the years since meeting him; and by the wear that quickly showed on the pages and bindings, they had studied them carefully.  He’d snuck enough of a look at some of those books to have the first germ of an idea to take root that things weren’t as they should be in his own family--through no fault of his own.

Severus hadn’t been at all sure what to do about people who took such an intense interest in his welfare--especially as he wasn’t even remotely kin to them!  They had no reason to put themselves out to help him, other than their daughter liking him!  What in Merlin’s name were they getting out of all that effort?

He couldn’t accept their offer, though.  They were Muggles, after all--Severus didn’t want to even _think_ about what his father would do to them, for interfering with his control over his only son.  They never stopped offering, though the offers now came more in the form of speaking looks, gestures of affection, and strongly expressed reluctance to let him leave whenever he came over to their house.

His father had cursed him with the Cruciatus enough times now that Severus was quite familiar with the after-effects. This time--this had been the worst yet.  There was no way he could have remained silent during it, this time...  There was no way he would _remain_ silent about it; not any longer.  His father was going to end up killing him anyway.  He _wasn’t_ going to make it easy for the bastard any longer!  Who was he protecting with his silence, anyway?  Certainly not himself!

He _would not ever_ serve that egomaniacal double-talking _nutcase_ his father practically worshipped!!  The wizard was _insane!_   All anybody had to do was put an average Muggle-born in a room with a wizard who was pureblood practically all the way back to Merlin’s time, and it was easy to see how sickly, weak, and/or neurotic the pureblood tended to be in comparison.  Likely because Muggle-borns weren’t inbred like pureblood wizards were; anybody into breeding animals of any kind could see the parallels.  He shook his head in disbelief at the idiocy of some pureblood wizards, firmly turning his thoughts away in an effort to crawl at least partially out of his usual pit of depression.

Severus figured he should have been pretty much debilitated for the next few days butfor Poppy Pomfrey’s skill, however he’d gotten to her.  He wondered morosely just who had found him out on the grounds, and how much trouble he was in for being out of his dorm after curfew.  It wouldn’t be a surprise if it were his screams that had brought help; his father had been too angry at his son’s refusal to cast a single silencing charm.  Maybe Hagrid had been led to him by one of the monsters living in the Forbidden Forest that were so oddly friendly towards the half-giant.  He could live with that; Hagrid had never indulged in the popular anti-Slytherin bias that had taken over the wizarding world.  So long as you never ate or drank anything Hagrid made himself, he made for a quite decent friend.

He didn’t regret standing up to his father so plainly for the first time.  He _refused_ to regret it.  He’d _never_ do as Tobias was demanding; he wouldn’t become another Tobias Snape!!  Even if it killed him!

Which it certainly would, now...  All on his own with no other family to turn to as he was, underage to boot; unpopular with his entire peer group thanks to the Marauders’ efforts...he knew his mere defiance was hardly going to be enough to save him.  He’d likely be dead before this school year was out.

Oh, now _there_ was a thought to promote quick healing...

Severus was snapped from his bleak thoughts by the sound of quiet footfalls.  He lifted and turned his head slightly as he dragged his eyes from their idle perusal of the ceiling to find the Headmaster, himself walking towards him.  A faint quiver of unease increased the tremors still dancing randomly through his muscles.  Severus grimaced at the crawling-ants sensation just under his skin before schooling his face into his usual blank expression, letting his head drop back to the pillow as he dully watched the old man approach.

He might not be in as much pain as he by rights should be, but his body’s exhaustion was hardly inconsiderable.  One of the reasons the Cruciatus was classed as an Unforgivable was that it was so difficult to counter even the after-effects; there was no quick spell or potion fix.  A bit of Severus’ mind trailed off to wonder if he might be able to create a potion that would help more than anything available to date.  It certainly couldn’t hurt to try, and so far his potions experimentations had been turning out very well...

Dumbledore stopped right by Severus’ head, looking calmly down at the dour-faced boy who only stared back for a brief moment before firmly directing his dark eyes up to the ceiling so he wouldn’t be directly meeting the powerful old man’s prying eyes.  A boy whose brief but direct black gaze had been hard as diamond, to cover a nevertheless still noticeable complete lack of hope.  The Headmaster was rather puzzled to see it, though he didn’t let the emotion show in his heavily bearded face.  Surely the boy had already arranged for his own protection; self-preservation was a strong Slytherin trait, after all, along with cunning.

The young Slytherin had no reason to think the old man was there for _his_ benefit.  He inevitably got in more trouble than his tormentors, when the Headmaster got around to “sorting things out”--never mind that _he_ was very rarely the one who started things.  The bloody Marauders put him in the Infirmary for a whole day at four-to-one odds, and got _maybe_ a couple days of detention with their Head of House, basically doing their homework...while when _he_ defended himself from one of their “pranks”, and one or more of them spent a whole _five minutes_ while Madam Pomfrey reversed his curse(s)--he was given _two weeks’_ detention, with _Argus_ _Filch!_   There was certainly no homework done during _his_ detentions.

Severus held back the snort of nervous hysteria that wanted to burst out at his bitter thoughts.  As far as he could tell, the Headmaster had it in for him simply because of his House, with maybe some reinforcement by his blood--Dumbledore certainly knew what Tobias Snape was, and probably figured Severus was going to follow along in the man’s rotten footsteps.

Which just went to show that the Headmaster’s reputation as all-knowing was most likely based on the pipe-dreams of a gullible populace full of former students.

After a couple moments the Headmaster’s lips quirked in a small smile that didn’t quite reach his non-twinkling eyes.  He bent forward to say in a slightly fake-seeming approximation of a friendly manner, “Mr. Snape.  How are you feeling?”

“I’m fine, thank you, Headmaster.”  Severus’ voice was dead, without inflection.  He obviously didn’t believe the Headmaster’s concern was genuine.  One eye twitched briefly along with the rest of that side of his face in another involuntary muscle spasm, one that skipped quickly down to his left leg before settling to stay for a while over in the back of his right hand, twitching and jerking at his fingers.  Severus ignored it, as did Dumbledore.

“I believe you have something to explain to me, about last night...?”

The Headmaster’s quiet request might have fallen on deaf ears, for all the response the boy gave.  The man had said it in a serious, expectant tone of voice that told Severus _he_ had supposedly done something horrible, and had best explain himself before his punishment was meted out.  Severus stared bleakly up at the ceiling in stony silence, knowing very well after four years at Hogwarts that nothing he said would make the slightest difference in what would happen to him, anyway.  Unless he started cussing at the Headmaster, that is; then he could expect his punishment to double, at the least.

This was no different than when the Marauders painfully cursed him, causing broken bones, horrible bruising, painful transformations...it was always written off as “boyish hijinks that will eventually go away if he’d only be wise and ignore them.”

“Ignore them”-- _Ha!!_ He’d already _tried_ that!  It just encouraged the prats to try harder for a reaction, resulting in more pain for him!  Severus clenched his teeth tighter, working hard to keep his face a stony mask of indifference.

Sighing softly with regret that, perhaps, wasn’t as...deep...as it might have been, Dumbledore easily forbore putting a hand to the touchy Slytherin boy’s shoulder to comfort him.  The Headmaster doubted it would be appreciated, antisocial as Mr. Snape was under normal circumstances; and especially considering what he had yet to say.  There was no way the Headmaster could offer the boy any solid promises of safety, not this soon; Tobias Snape was a moderately powerful political figure, and any steps the Headmaster took would have to be carefully considered or they’d do more harm to the boy than good.

Tobias Snape could be brutally vindictive when he was crossed, and Dumbledore certainly didn’t want to fail in his efforts and end up with a student in his care maimed for life; or worse-- _dead._   From what young James Potter had told him, Dumbledore realized there truly was a very good likelihood of Tobias Snape killing his son before Severus could even finish his education at Hogwarts.  He might not be especially fond of the prickly young Slytherin, but he certainly wasn’t going to stand by and let the vast potential that could be made out even through all that anti-social snark go to waste.  Most of the boy’s teachers considered Mr. Snape to be brilliant, especially Professor Slughorn--and for Horace to cast even faint praise on a student with no connections to return the favor, was really saying something.  It was well known he had no influence over his father for Horace to capitalize on.  To have the Potions professor actually recommend an _apprenticeship_ for the boy, with no obvious benefit to Horace--Mr. Snape must certainly be a Potions prodigy!

Reading the closed expression on the Headmaster’s face but missing any hint of the thoughts the old man had buried away, Severus was bitterly and thoroughly convinced that no amount of reluctance would have stopped the “comforting” gesture towards a _Gryffindor_ student.  Or a Ravenclaw.  Or even a Hufflepuff...

 _...any_ House but Slytherin.

There were days Severus really wondered about people.  How could Dumbledore revere Gryffindor _so_ much when the last Dark Lord, Grindelwald, had been of that House?!  That Dark wizard had caused more death and destruction to wizards and Muggles alike than any other Dark Lord in history!  Severus would have thought that _Gryffindor_ would have more rightfully earned the old man’s loathing, than Slytherin!  It wasn’t as if Dumbledore himself had been in Gryffindor; according to  Hogwarts: A History, the Headmaster had been in Ravenclaw.

He realized Dumbledore was speaking again, so Severus wrenched his mutinously scattering thoughts and attention back to the here-and-now, little though the Headmaster’s words pleased him.

“--me that James Potter found you last night, Mr. Snape, and brought you here.”

 _That_ involuntary jerking of his body wasn’t caused by spell-residue.  Severus kept his face from twisting with loathing at Potter’s name only by extreme willpower.  He _wouldn’t_ give the Headmaster the satisfaction of seeing how much it bothered him to be saved by that--that _prat!_

“You should be sure to thank him when next you see him; you might not have been found until much too late, if it weren’t for him.”  Stern blue eyes that always seemed to twinkle for the members of any other House of Hogwarts but Slytherin bored into the already jaded and cynical black eyes of the injured boy as he demanded something Severus would quite frankly rather still be lying outside suffering the untreated effects of the Cruciatus curse than to give.  Then again, the Headmaster was always demanding Severus basically bow down before the supposed magnificence of his pet Gryffindors, no matter what evidence there was that the four of them were the biggest and meanest bullies at Hogwarts for the last fifty years!  No Slytherin could be in the right in the Headmaster’s eyes, _oh, no!_ of _course_ not!

Severus yanked his eyes firmly back to the ceiling without uttering a word as despairing bitterness washed over him.  He knew there was nothing the Headmaster was willing to say or do that would help him in any way; and he was unwilling to ease any nascent conscience the old man might be developing over the matter.  He dulled his awareness of things around him, sinking purposefully into his own resentful thoughts.

It was always _his_ fault when he was involved in any “altercations,” of course; as a Slytherin, he must obviously have started things, he simply must have been somehow “asking for” whatever the Marauders always felt determined to do to him.  At four-to-one odds, sometimes worse.  He must certainly _deserve_ all the times they’d sent him to the Hospital wing.  There were never any witnesses taking his side, after all; no one ever spoke up for him.

\- but for Lily Evans, of course.  But Lily had been Sorted into Gryffindor, while he’d chosen Slytherin--and her Housemates were always careful to try and never do anything to him where she could personally see it for herself.  Her being Muggle-born meant she didn’t really ascribe to the House divisions, and saw no reason not to be friends with the only other student in their Potions class who was even remotely serious about learning that subtle science--never mind that they’d already been friends since well before coming to Hogwarts.  Severus didn’t want his only true friend to think of him as a whiner, unable to take care of himself, and so he was careful to downplay whatever things he did slip up and mention to her.  He wasn’t sure if he could live with himself if he pushed her away because of whinging on about the Marauders.

Bullies made Lily absolutely _livid,_ though.She easily knew just as many hexes as Severus did, in spite of his reputation; and Lily was quite creative and unrestrained in using them, when she got in a full temper.  Amusing as the thought of the fiery Lily Evans declaring all-out war on the Marauders was, Severus truly didn’t want her to have to be at odds with her own House for defending a “ _slimy_ _Slytherin”_.  He, of all people, knew how awful that could be.

A wave of grief washed over him as it suddenly hit him right in the gut that it would be better for Lily, for her very safety, if Severus didn’t allow her to continue trying to be his friend any longer.  He wasn’t worth what could happen to her if his father ever found out he had dared to be friends with a Muggle-born.  Severus just couldn’t protect her well enough anymore--he couldn’t even protect himself!  He _certainly_ would not ever trust her Housemates to even notice the danger, not until it was much too late!

Slytherin wasn’t entirely innocent of its bad reputation, either; there were several of his Housemates who truly would like nothing more than to see all Muggle-borns done away with, though it wasn’t that much higher a percentage of students than in the other three Houses. The bigots in the other Houses just hid their beliefs more diligently than those in Slytherin did.  All it would take was gossip from a Housemate through their relatives getting to his father, and the man could pass back the directive that Lily Evans was to be “taken care of”-- _immediately._

They were incredibly lucky that hadn’t happened yet.  Likely Tobias hadn’t bothered with school rumors before now, because his son hadn’t been so determined to oppose him.

Severus felt something quite painful clench inside his chest, and refused to think of what would happen to Lily if his father found out about their friendship.  From five years before Hogwarts, he’d always been _so_ careful that the bastard wouldn’t get even a _hint_ that he might possibly be friends with a Muggle-born, all for fear of what the man would do to “nip it in the bud”.  His mother had helped him, covering for his absences when he went to see Lily, teaching him how to cover his tracks and mislead his father without actually lying to him.  At school, most of their meetings were secluded from casual observation, or in places like the library, where they were so obviously and boringly studying that no one paid them any mind.  They _were_ teacher-assigned partners in several of their shared classes, after all, and so required to study with each other.

Besides, Lily was pretty much the only person who not only understood, but actually _shared_ Severus’ rather odd idea of a sense of humor.  Everyone else would think they were having a fairly serious row, when they were merely teasing each other.

It was his own fault he and Lily weren’t in the same House, anyway.  Severus hadn’t realized, as the Sorting Hat was placed on his head, just how deep the division between Gryffindor and Slytherin _was_ , when he demanded the Hat absolutely _not_ put him in the same House as the two prats who’d tormented him so for no good reason on the Hogwarts Express.  His grief at his mother’s death had been too fresh and raw for much rational thought; he hadn’t been able to stand the thought of sharing a dorm for seven years with those two-- _prats!_   He hadn’t particularly wanted to go to Slytherin either, fond as he was most definitely _not_ of snakes; but his father’s House of Ravenclaw hadn’t appealed all that much, either.  Even then he’d known there was no way he’d ever be put in Hufflepuff; he might be hard-working, but he was nowhere near compassionate enough to be a Badger.  It just wasn’t in him to be all _touchy-feelie_.

He hadn’t known his refusal of Gryffindor could result in losing his only friend.

Severus ignored the Headmaster, until the old man gave up on him and left.  It didn’t take long.  The Headmaster of course had no sympathy and no patience for a Slytherin; he didn’t stay even five minutes.  Severus did wonder why Dumbledore hadn’t deducted scores of House points from Slytherin, though; that was rather odd.  He shrugged it off, too tired to wonder about it.  Probably it had been done while he was still unconscious, before the Headmaster even thought to question him.  It wasn’t like there was anything he could say that would change the old man’s mind, anyway.

It was rather unfortunate that Severus didn’t know the Headmaster left so quickly because he was already mentally composing letters to certain allies within the Ministry, to start procedures for the emancipation of a minor from an abusive household where Unforgivables were performed.  Dumbledore hadn’t wanted to get the boy’s hopes up before he knew things would definitely go through; it was possible, thought not likely, Tobias might catch wind of the proceedings in time to put a stop to them.  Dumbledore figured the young Slytherin would have plans set to safeguard himself, that would last long enough for Dumbledore to present him with the final step--the legal paperwork for the boy to sign.  Hopefully it could progress beyond stopping before the students were next sent home, for the long Easter holiday.

In a decidedly short-sighted attempt to prevent anyone from guessing he was going to help the boy, he _had_ taken points from Slytherin, for Mr. Snape being out of his dorm after curfew.  When he heard of it through the parents of other Slytherin children, Tobias Snape would certainly never guess the Headmaster would deduct points from a child he was helping; the man would feel safe that his power over his son was undisputed, and so not take further steps to protect his interests.  The boy simply must stay at Hogwarts until the legal procedures were well underway, or it would all be for naught; so Tobias must be given no reason to withdraw him.

The Headmaster had never really understood Slytherins all that well.  Ravenclaws were highly intelligent, but not all that intuitive about human emotions and motives.  Dumbledore had forgotten that no matter their House, they were still _children_ , just like any others at heart.  Slytherins were simply better at hiding their true thoughts and emotions than any of the other Houses, as well as almost obsessively plotting to protect and advance themselves.  That points loss would not earn Severus any friends from his own House, and would even further alienate the boy--and his whole House--from the Headmaster.

An unexpected rustling of cloth at the foot of Severus’ bed drew his attention, as there was nothing there to make the sound.  Severus carefully, shakily pushed himself up on his elbows, quickly sweating from the effort while silently cursing his body’s weakness, all the while staring intently at nothing; a niggling suspicion working its way through his still rather sluggish thoughts, preoccupied as they were with his habitual bitterness.

Then he groaned and flopped back down, closing his eyes and throwing an arm over them to block out the vision of James- _Bloody_ _Hell!_ -Potter’s head suddenly appearing to float over the foot of the bed.  He’d been caught by Potter and his mates using that damned Invisibility Cloak too often to be particularly surprised by the sight, the teaching staff flat refusing to confiscate the damned thing for some unfathomable reason.  He figured that as Dumbledore had said Potter had been the one to find him last night, the Gryffindor prat must be there to collect the ordered _thanks_.

Severus briefly wondered if he could use wandless magic to Accio his wand from wherever Poppy had stashed it before Potter hexed him in some new, unusual and of course humiliating way--because that “thanks” would only come with the Headmaster standing over him, wand drawn and ready to hex him with another Unforgivable curse, _Imperius!_   He’d neither wanted nor asked for Potter’s help.  How long the hex he just _knew_ was coming would last, depended on where Poppy was--and why in Merlin’s name wasn’t she anywhere in sight?!  She, of _all_ people, would know how vulnerable he was just then--and how prone his enemies were to ambushes at the worst possible times!  She was the one who usually had to patch him up when things went too far.  She normally kept quite the close watch on him when he was in her care, the Marauders _had_ tried to hex him while he was in the Infirmary a couple times before.

Hmmm...he really should add Poppy Pomfrey to that too-short list that to date held only Lily’s name.  He was pretty sure there were now actually _two_ people living who would at least notice, if he were to disappear one day.  He fondly remembered the last time Sirius Black had tried to get at him in the Infirmary, and ended up filling a bed of his own for two days from the _special wards_ Madam Pomfrey had set around Severus’s bed.  She’d refused to use the counter-curse on Black until Severus had been released back to his dorm.

Maybe Madam Pomfrey and Lily would more than just simply notice, if he was gone...that was a disturbingly comforting thought.

After the past four years’ worth of experience, Severus certainly didn’t expect how things actually went with Potter from that moment on, starting with the very first words out of the other boy’s mouth.

“I’m sorry.”

Severus froze in shock, not even breathing, wondering just what type of hex Potter had cast on his ears.  He was _obviously_ not hearing correctly!  He slowly drew his arm back down and strained to raise his head, eyebrows heading for his hairline as he stared at a remarkably contrite looking James Potter.  He consciously re-started his lungs to ask tiredly, “What are you up to now, Potter?”

The Gryffindor winced, though Severus was certain there hadn’t been anywhere near the usual amount of venom in his tone.  He was too exhausted for even verbal sparring.  He just wanted to sleep, until Poppy released him back into the wilds of the Hogwarts student body...

“I’m not ‘ _up to’_ anything, Snape.”

Severus blinked at Potter’s use of his actual surname instead of one of the usual insults, as well as the lack of hostility in the Gryffindor’s level tone.  He was too confused to interrupt as Potter went on, “I...I followed you out there, last night.  I-- _saw_ \--what happened.  I’m sorry I didn’t help you sooner; I should’ve done something the first time he cursed you--”

The stuttery, yet seemingly heart-felt explanation was cut off as Snape shot upright, almost flinging himself from the bed but for the weakness in his muscles.  He glared death at Potter as rage and shame both burned through him.

“Just forget what you saw, _Potter!_   It doesn’t concern you!”  Snape’s lip curled in disgust as he sneered at his school nemesis.  He added in a low snarl, “It’s not like you’ll be doing anything but tormenting me about it, anyway.”  He wasn’t sure why he’d let that pop out of his mouth, but he was feeling much too sore and tired and hopeless to regret it.

The flinch was harder this time, and Potter’s face actually went red with embarrassment as he seemed to shrink in on himself, though it was hard to tell with that damned cloak still covering the rest of him from the neck down.  There was no anger in the Gryffindor’s face, though.  Severus felt his rage slip a bit, replaced by astonishment as Potter only sighed and hung his head, then came around and hopped up onto the bed next to Snape’s, shoving the cloak back over his shoulders so he was completely visible.  Black eyes stared in astonishment as Potter pulled his legs up and settled himself cross-legged, arms resting on his knees, apparently meaning to stay for a while.

“Potter--what are you _doing?_   In case you hadn’t noticed, this _isn’t_ your dorm; and I’m certainly not a Gryffindor!”

Potter looked straight into his eyes, slowly drawing his wand to hold it flat on his open palm.  Severus couldn’t help flinching back from sight of that wand in the hand of his nemesis while he was without his own.  He watched warily, hauling himself upright once more and scooting back a bit, tense in grim anticipation of the curse that was sure to come.  He’d never known any of the self-styled ‘Marauders’ to miss an opportunity to hex a Slytherin when he was helpless-- _especially_ him.  The prats even sometimes went _en masse_ after Slytherin _girls!_

Except--no hex came.  The words of slow and solemn formality that were spoken instead couldn’t help but convince Severus of the Gryffindor’s sincerity, even as shock left him light-headed and feeling faint enough to slouch against the headboard.  Which feeling he hastily blamed on side effects from Poppy’s potions, that she’d undoubtedly poured down his throat while he was unconscious.

“I, James Edward Potter of Gryffindor House, do hereby give my Wizard’s Oath to Severus Snape of Slytherin House; that I will not allow him to be forced into service to the Dark Lord against his will, not by kin, false friend, enemy, or anyone else; and I will ensure him sanctuary when and as he needs it, for so long as he is in such need, and as often.”  With a deep breath, the Gryffindor added the magical and binding third part to the Oath, “Furthermore, I swear to treat him with the respect and dignity that are his due as a fellow wizard regardless of House or other affiliation, the same as I would were he my own brother.  So swear I, from this moment onwards to forever.”

_**To Be Continued...** _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _**AN: ******For those who wonder about Dumbledore, just remember that this has been mostly from various teenage points of view, and none of the kids have enough experience to accurately define just what’s going on behind those manipulatively twinkling blue eyeballs. Not that the Headmaster’s totally without fault--he doesn’t really understand or like Slytherins all that much, and Severus’ snarky manner is rather off-putting if you don’t take the time to understand and learn to appreciate it. But the old man’s not completely hopeless! It’s just that he’s not grooming any of these boys to be The Savior of the Wizarding World, so he’s treating them more like normal students--kids who really don’t have a right to know everything that’s happening to everybody around them. Especially what’s happening to other kids who have never been even vaguely friendly with them. Albus might be a manipulative old coot who plays favorites more than he should, but he’s not intentionally malicious. ___  
>  _And yes, Snape’s a tad bit...er, angst-ridden. Hey, the kid’s certainly got more than enough reasons, especially from his point of view! He’s also suffering the after-effects of a nasty-painful curse, which will certainly cause a bit of additional depression in and of itself. So in all, he’s currently buried in depression, anxiety, hopelessness, and quite a bit of not-all-bad shock--it’s no wonder his wits are stumbling a bit. =] I figure he’s going to be acting almost like he’s dreaming for a while, waiting for the infamous other shoe to drop on him! ___


	4. Chapter 4

Severus stared wide-eyed at Potter, more shocked than if the Dark Lord, himself had come to sit on that bed to calmly discuss with him the merits of Muggle technology.  Magic circled and coiled about the Gryffindor, sealing his word and making it just short of a full Unbreakable Vow--short only because they didn’t have a Bonder for witness.  So if Potter broke his Sworn word, he wouldn’t actually die on the spot--but he’d be in a fair bit of outright pain for the rest of his days, the strength of it depending on whether he could, and _would_ make things right again.  He wouldn’t be allowed to simply change his mind and forget all about it.

The colorless, ropey strands of pure magic bound tightly about the Gryffindor to Severus’ magical senses, completely cocooning him, before abruptly flowing off Potter and coiling into a tight ball about his wand; then shooting straight at Severus’ heart.  The wide-eyed Slytherin barely had time to even flinch before a strange warmth flowed through him, easing some of the residual ache from his father’s curses, bringing with it a feeling of peace like he’d never known...followed by the greatest sense of stunned disbelief he’d ever felt in his entire life.

Potter wasn’t joking.

...Why wasn’t Potter joking?

Severus felt the world tilt precariously for a moment as one of the foundational beliefs of his life threatened to crack apart like a pillar made of sand.

It’s not like Potter would gain anything from helping Severus; more likely he’d earn the enmity of most of his own House, the moment they caught wind of it!  Had he been Confunded?  Except--then the magic would never have verified the Oath...especially not so strongly!

 _No one_ helped Severus Snape without gain to themselves.  It was one of the universal laws he’d learned the hard way to expect from life.  Since his mother’s death, the only person who’d ever seemed to really care a whit about him had been his single childhood friend--Lily Evans, who was a law unto herself.  Madam Pomfrey seemed to be at least slightly fond of him, but she’d made no effort to actually befriend him, or just take him under her wing--she could have offered him sanctuary in the Hospital Wing by asking him to assist her in various ways.  That would have given him at least _some_ guaranteed prank-free time, and he’d been more than capable of brewing unsupervised about half of the potions the Infirmary stocked by the end of his second year.  He knew any interest she showed in him had to just be simple professional interest on her part.

No one else had ever given a damn about him.  Even the Headmaster hadn’t made any sort of serious offer of help when he visited earlier, and if Potter had brought Severus in from the Forest, he certainly must have told the Headmaster what he’d seen and heard.  Especially if it had affected the Gryffindor _this_ much!  The old man apparently didn’t feel it was worth the effort to even offer to help a Slytherin, in spite of his equal responsibilities as Headmaster towards _all_ of the students at Hogwarts.

So why had Potter done-- _this?!!_

His gape-jawed, unblinking staring must have made Potter uncomfortable, because the boy shifted about and lowered his hand, slowly putting his wand away, never breaking their too-solemn eye contact.  Snape shook his head slightly, trying to get his rattled thoughts straight.  Finally, he found his voice long enough for a hoarse, “Why?”

Potter’s mouth worked for a couple moments, his eyes darting everywhere but to Severus’ and his hands bunching up the sheets of the bed he sat on as he tried to find a way to explain.  Finally he drew in a deep breath and just jumped on in, obviously steeling himself to look back into the stunned black eyes before him.  Severus just barely kept his lip from habitually curling at the signature Gryffindor bravado that was just oozing from the other boy.

“Anybody brave enough to do what you did last night; anybody strong enough to hold his own against four-to-one odds, for this long, while so young--you’d be a good ally in the fight against--against V-V-- _Voldemort_.  Dumbledore doesn’t seem interested in helping you, but I’m not so foolish--not anymore...not since last night.  You’re--not what I’ve always thought you were.”

Shame at his past misjudgment practically had Potter’s whole face bright red, and his usual arrogant posture was gone--he’d subtly curled in on himself, almost seeming to shrink a couple inches.  His hands were clenching and unclenching in his lap as he squirmed slightly, and his voice had gone whisper-soft.  It was quite clear that continuing to meet Snape’s eyes was probably the single most difficult thing James had ever done.

“Besides...as if all that wasn’t enough... _nobody_ deserves to have their own f- _father_ do--what yours did.”

Shame and shock warred with an unfamiliar, niggling little warm glow at the first ever acknowledgment from someone _other_ than his mother or Lily that he, Severus Snape, was actually, truly, _worth something._   That Oath Potter had just given him--that was _irreversible_ ; Potter could never go back on it, even if he changed his mind.  It might well be Severus’ one viable chance _out_ of the impossible situation his life had become.

... _If_ he could learn to tolerate James-the-Prat Potter, that is.

Oh, _Merlin,_ Severus thought to himself in disgust--even if Potter managed to restrain himself from a four-year, firmly established habit of torment and antagonism (and Severus would never dare hope even James Potter could control the other three Marauders--Sirius Black couldn’t even control himself!) Severus wasn’t sure _he_ could tolerate the Gryffindor’s usual cocky, overly optimistic, head-strong, devil-may-care attitude.  The idiot had _no_ concept of consequences, having gotten away with pretty much anything he’d ever done!  He never apologized to anyone, even when he _knew_ he’d been in the wrong--not even to innocent bystanders of his own House who were caught the fallout of his pranks!  He just smiled and tried to charm his way out of trouble.  James Potter was the epitome of all things Gryffindor; jump right in, feet-first, without even peeking at what he was getting into...barrel straight into everything with eyes firmly shut, irregardless of who he bowled over, foe or friend...

Severus had frequently been blamed for Potter’s misdeeds, even with the care he took to avoid being involved in the first place.  He still had no clue how in Merlin’s name the Marauders could _always_ find him, whenever he was isolated and with no professor in range to catch them at it.  They _had_ to be using some kind of tracking spell or charm he’d never heard of!

Naturally, none of that could ever promote in Severus feelings towards them that even vaguely resembling camaraderie.

Then again, Severus had never exactly seen Potter when the boy wasn’t posturing against Slytherins for his friends’ amusement.  Severus, himself, never showed his own true self to anyone, except occasionally for Lily when they were guaranteed to be alone--and that was _definitely_ including his own Housemates.  It _was_ possible that, as with a Slytherin, peer pressure had formed a public façade that could be quite different from Potter’s true self...impossible as that would seem in any typically transparent Gryffindor.

Though if Severus never saw the “real Potter”, none of that could possibly matter to him.  A bully was a bully to his victims, no matter how nice he might be to, say, his own mother; and no matter if he “didn’t really want to be” a bully.  Words meant nothing when compared to actions, especially when those actions resulted in someone in pain.

But if Potter had experienced enough of an epiphany to not only change his opinion of Severus, but for the change in attitude to _stick_ for more than five minutes--and if it stuck _in public_ , yet--!

If the Marauders had never started their campaign against him, Severus would never have raised his wand against them.  He’d have avoided them like plague, of course, pranksters that they were; but he’d never have thrown even one curse at them.  His animosity towards the Marauders was born of their actions against him personally, not any prejudice of his own--though prejudice was fast developing in him as Gryffindors in general seemed apt to get away with absolutely anything, with little to no punishment.  Or with a nearby Slytherin catching the blamed...  Gryffindors never seemed to consider _consequences._

Severus was at Hogwarts to study; to learn all that he could, so he could get away from his father as soon as possible, and be able to defend himself from the bastard coming after him.  Granted, fighting the Marauders had actually helped with this plan; his dueling skills were very nearly, if not _the_ best in the entire school-- _including_ the Seventh Years--thanks to the constant practice at four-to-one odds.

With James’ Oath...there was at least a chance that Severus’ time at Hogwarts from then on might become, at the least, tolerable.  He might finally have somewhere to _go_ , to truly be free of the threat of Tobias Snape.

And when _Lily_ found out...

A slow smirk struggled to take over his face as Severus imagined Lily’s reaction, when she heard what Potter had magically sworn to do for him.  He worked at suppressing it, as Potter was still struggling to find the words to explain himself.  Even if Potter’s resolve flagged, Lily would be _delighted_ to make certain he put full effort into keeping his Oath.

For that matter, it might be almost safe now (for the both of them!) for her to be openly friendly with Severus, with only the wanna-be supporters of the new Dark Lord to worry about--instead of the entire student population of the school plus the teaching staff, many of whom expressed the Headmaster’s prejudice quite well.  After all, if Golden Boy Potter (and possibly most of his gang) approved of the friendship, how could anyone else argue against it?  And if Severus wasn’t distracted by attacks coming at him from practically all sides, he’d be able to devote more time to protecting Lily from his most dangerous Housemates and their ilk!

Severus didn’t worry about he, himself being at the mercy of his Housemates.  So long as Dumbledore was Headmaster, there would be no Unforgivables cast within the castle, and no murders.  Especially by Slytherins.  He didn’t believe for a minute that any student at Hogwarts could possibly compare to his father’s ability to torture him, even if any of them were somehow capable of casting the Cruciatus.  Give him a true hope of salvation to look forward to, cut back on the Marauders’ torments, and Severus was sure he’d be the happiest student at Hogwarts until he graduated!  It surely wouldn’t be worse than his current circumstances.

A sense of unreality crept across Severus’ mind, wrapping his racing thoughts in sweet treacle.  He considered the possibility that he was dreaming, or at least experiencing some strong potion-induced hallucinations.  Good things of this magnitude just did not _happen_ to Severus Snape!  He couldn’t think what he had possibly done to earn such potential good fortune, and was worried that he wasn’t seeing the possible--no, make that likely!--downsides clearly enough.  The worst way that this could go wrong didn’t seem particularly worse than anything that had already happened to him in his short life.

There was no way this could be _true...!_

It had always been a simple matter for the Marauders to get away with blaming everything on Severus.  As a Slytherin, the staff all suspected him from the moment they knew he was nearby, involved or not.  Even his own Head of House regularly denied him the support he was due as a Slytherin student!  Professor Horace Slughorn was certainly no shining example of all that a Slytherin could be; his greedy, sycophantic tendencies usually overshadowed his better sense, when he scented the rich and powerful nearby.

The moment he realized that there was no one in a position of power over him who had _his_ well-being in mind, had been the worst betrayal of Severus Snape’s young life.  Hogwarts--his best, last hope--had turned from his salvation, to seven years of purgatory.

James Potter was from one of the richest and most powerful Old Blood families in Wizarding Britain; Sirius Black from another, though of Darker repute.  Whereas the Snape family, though also pure Old Blood, had never been more than moderately well-to-do, financially or magically.  Granted, Severus’ _mother_ had been born one of the prestigious Prince family; but she had been quite thoroughly disowned by them for her stubborn choice of a Dark, _politically inconsequential_ husband, over the wizard her parents had chosen for her.  There was simply no social, political, or financial gain to befriending a razor-tongued, sour-tempered son-of-a-crup like Severus Snape, especially over the likes of the so-popular Potter and Black.  Every socially-conscious person at Hogwarts from Slughorn on down to brand-new First years was aware of that on first sight of him.

If it hadn’t been for the Marauders constantly tormenting him, Severus Snape would likely have gone through all his seven years at Hogwarts without anyone but Lily and his teachers even knowing who the socially-inept young bookworm _was._   Severus had no patience to court the friendship of idiots, didn’t suffer fools gladly, and had never learned to temper his quick intelligence and extra-sharp wit enough to encourage other children to befriend him even if he’d wanted them to.  As Severus was also perfectly happy not being in the midst of large groups of people, he saw no reason to change.  He’d much rather be reading, or brewing, or practicing spells, with only Lily’s calm and quiet presence nearby.  She was one of the very few students at Hogwarts who could keep up with his thoughts in a conversation, anyway.

But now...with what Potter had just sworn...maybe, finally, life was offering Severus a chance to free himself from his seemingly doomed existence.  To choose for himself how his own life would go, instead of his father forcing him.  To choose for himself what he would be, what he would do with his life; who he could befriend...who would have his loyalty...

Severus yanked his mind from what seemed horribly random, potion-induced circular wanderings with a shake, concentrating on paying attention as James let out a huge sigh while rubbing at his face, then finally started speaking again.

“You should know, I owled my father last night.  He’s an Auror, pretty high up in the department; he’s got lots of pull.  I got a response at breakfast--it’s why I skived off class to come here, actually.”  The clear hazel eyes gazing at Severus from behind round lenses were nervous, but determined.  “He--doesn’t think the Headmaster’s going to do anything useful to help you, either...so he’s made an offer to you.”

Potter shifted and pulled a scroll from a pocket in his robe, then handed it to Snape, who took it only slowly and with a great deal of trepidation.  Oath or no, Severus had been the butt of a great deal too many of Potter’s practical jokes over the years to just accept anything from him at face value, no matter how badly he wished to.  For all he knew, Potter and company had figured out a way to imitate the Oath magic!  The Gryffindor _seemed_ sincere, but Severus still fervently wished he had his wand handy to check that scroll for hexes.  His trust had yet to be earned.

When nothing untoward happened at his cautious touch, Severus carefully began unrolling the scroll, feeling tense as a drawn bow between ingrained anticipation of a nasty hex and worry over just what the thing said.  Potter started speaking before Severus could even start reading it.

“Basically, Dad’s willing to do one of two things.  For one, he says if you decide to run away from home, he wants you to come to our house to live.”

Black eyes flashed up to fix on the Gryffindor’s in pure and utter disbelief as Severus nearly dropped the partially unrolled parchment.  He only realized he’d forgotten to breathe when his vision started to go grey, a couple minutes after Potter continued.

“He’ll see to it you can continue to come to Hogwarts, no matter what your father does--even if you have to come in disguise, pretending to be a transfer student or something.  He says your grade records will be kept straight, as they are magically recorded.”

Severus twitched, rather surprised that Potter Senior knew enough about him to be aware he might actually think about his future and value his grades.  Potter _Junior_ never seemed bothered to care about his own.  Potter was still speaking, though, so Severus grit his teeth and forced his unruly thoughts to still enough for him to pay attention.

He _hated_ how his thoughts were refusing to stay focused!  There were definitely reasons he didn’t like Madam Pomfrey pouring certain potions down his throat.

“On the other hand, if you’re willing, Dad would much rather begin legal proceedings to gain guardianship over you.  It would effectively be the same as the first option, but would keep you legally safe from anything your father tries to do before you’re of age--and you would never need any sort of disguise.”  Potter’s face--twitched, before taking on a distinctly sickly hue.  The boy swallowed hard before continuing in a somewhat fainter voice, “That would--legally, make us...b-brothers.”

The stuttered delivery on that last line had been completely deadpan, without a hint of humor hiding anywhere about the room.  Treating Severus Snape as a brother because of a magically binding Oath was one thing; but making it _legal--?!_  

Binding his whole _family_ to it...?!

The spasms still flitting through Severus’ muscles chose that moment of pure unadulterated shock to make all of his muscles jump at once, even as he scrambled back and pressed himself against the bed’s headboard, eyes going wide enough they must certainly pop right out of his head at any moment.  The thought of being in any way, shape, or form even _sort of_ related to James Pig-Headed Potter was almost enough to generate a spontaneous burst of wandless magic from him!  Never mind that this was proof Severus now had a real, viable alternative to his current choices of death, or slavery to the Dark Lord; the urge to hex the other boy right out of the Hospital Wing was _so_ strong, Severus could feel his magic slamming through his veins, chafing to be released.  His skin felt hot, and that plus the itchiness still tickling about underneath it from his father’s curses doubled the muscle spasms.  His feelings were strong enough to easily distract him from feeling the lingering deep curse-ache centered in his bones.

Neither boy noticed all the small loose items in the Infirmary were shivering slightly, the closest vibrating minutely across the surfaces they were set on.  Madam Pomfrey would have a stroke, were she to see how agitated her patient was!

Speak of the Medi-Witch, and there she was...  Poppy Pomfrey came marching out of her office in high dudgeon, her magic crackling about her, mouth pressed in a straight, disapproving line and rather hostile eyes fixed solidly upon James Potter.  Severus almost couldn’t tear his eyes away from the boy to glance at her, he was so in shock.  The Medi-Witch made short work of chivvying Potter out of her domain, chasing him off to class with sharp words and flapping hands, then turned to Severus to remind him to “Breathe, dear; that shade of blue doesn’t become you at all.”

Severus found himself staring at the Medi-Witch in disbelief at her unexpected bit of humor, while she carefully waved her wand over him in several thorough diagnostic spells.  Only a careful examination that Severus was just not up to doing would show the corners of her lips twitching just so; otherwise she looked as deadpan-serious as usual.  Satisfied he had come to no further harm from the excitement of the Gryffindor’s unexpected visit, she set about tucking her patient back into his bed, for the first time ever patting his shoulder almost fondly once she had him settled to her satisfaction, giving him an actual sympathetic look.

The Slytherin didn’t know that Poppy had been listening in on what Potter told him--just as she’d listened to the Headmaster’s rather disgraceful showing.  Severus also wasn’t aware that the Medi-Witch had been growing more and more exasperated with the Headmaster’s prejudice against _her_ House of Slytherin; especially against her favorite student, of whom she’d seen entirely too much since his first week of school, back in his very first year.  Poppy Pomfrey had now made a decision with regards to young Mr. Snape that had been coming due for years now; a decision that the Headmaster was going to run into face-first, each and every time she felt he had neglected the interests of this child entrusted to his care in favor of others.

Things should _never_ have been allowed to go anywhere _near_ this far!  The _Cruciatus--!_  Poppy bit back on the impulse of tears.  She knew the boy hardly came to her every time he’d met his father, and she suspected that was several times each school year.  His pride wouldn’t allow it, even if his father hadn’t forbade him to.  Poppy also knew she had to shoulder some of the blame in the situation, having stayed to proper procedures instead of going straight to the School Board for help for the poor boy.  Then again, she didn’t think an orphanage would be the appropriate answer for Mr. Snape--his father could still get hold of the boy, for one thing.  Poppy didn’t have the political pull to adopt Mr. Snape herself, even if she did have the necessary funds; and she didn’t know of anyone else who would be both willing and able to do it.  So she’d reluctantly depended on the Headmaster’s assurances that Mr. Snape would be all right, that they could wait until he was mostly through school and then give him whatever offer he needed to help him escape his father.

Poppy was the one who did the medical scans on Mr. Snape when he returned to school from the holidays, and fixed all the damage she always-- _always!_ \--found.  She was the one put him back to rights each time the self-styled “Marauders” got through with him--or those of his own House.  She was thoroughly tired of it!  Dumbledore’s wait-and-see attitude wouldn’t cut it any longer; he’d be waiting until they had well and truly lost the boy!  Children should never be forced to fend for themselves this way!

Perhaps Minerva could be made to see her point of view.  Pomona and Filius were already sympathetic, though their Houses weren’t directly impacted so much by the problem.  It was such a shame Horace was too busy currying favor to properly stick up for those in his House as was his responsibility!

She’d simply have to have a word with Horace about that.  In detail.

With appropriate hexes...!

Severus stared silently up at Madam Pomfrey with glazed-looking eyes, completely bewildered by the turn his life had just taken.  He was also rather disturbed by the fierce gaze she was leveling at everything in the room but him.  It looked like she was about to take a bite out of something--or some-one, and he didn’t think the recently-chased Potter was on her current list of targets.  He briefly wondered who he should be feeling sorry for.

His life was getting ridiculous!  People just weren’t acting like they were supposed to!  What was next--Sirius Black showing up to share a stash of un-cursed chocolate frogs with him?!  Severus shivered purely from horror at the thought, the movement pulling both a worried frown and another gentle and unexpected pat to his shoulder from the normally stern Medi-Witch.  She gave Severus one more concerned look-over, then nodded sharply and bade him a good nap, mentioning she’d make certain the noise in the infirmary was kept to the absolute minimum until he was ready to wake on his own.  She sent one last fierce, _angry_ glare towards the doors before turning smartly and marching back to her office, temper showing in every step, leaving Severus to wonder how the color hadn’t been stripped from the door by the force of that glare.

She actually expected him to be able to _sleep??!_   With what he’d just learned--there was no way!!  Shakily sinking down into his pillows, Snape stared disbelievingly after the Medi-Witch, only grudgingly realizing as the room blurred and his jaw suddenly cracked with the force of a yawn that she was right.  He was simply too exhausted to lay awake and fret for long.  Which was a good thing, as it would be several hours before he could take any more medicinal potions, including Dreamless Sleep.

He consciously tried to relax, and was surprised to find darkness claiming him almost before he closed his eyes.  He never noticed when the Medi-Witch quietly padded back in and over to his bed.  She clucked softly in satisfaction at seeing his face so lax in sleep.  She gently tucked his covers up under his chin, pulled the curtains closed about his bed, and spelled a one-way silencing charm on them so the boy wouldn’t be disturbed.

His last thought as the blackness rose and engulfed him had been wondering what in Merlin’s name he was going to do now...

_**To be continued...** _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _**AN: ******In case anyone wonders about Potter Sr., he’s basing his opinion of Dumbledore’s likely actions on both James’ admittedly biased accounts and his own personal knowledge of the man. As Mr. Potter Sr. is not only an Auror, but a former Gryffindor, he’s not the most patient man in the Wizarding World. He might realize Dumbledore could be working behind the scenes to “fix” things (as he truly is), but Edward Potter will be less likely to want to chance Snape’s health and wellbeing by sitting back and letting things happen as they will--not when he’s willing and perfectly capable of stepping in. Dumbledore is mistakenly counting on what’s really an adult-level of self-preservation in a Slytherin Fourth-year--he seems to think Slytherins are much more adept and accomplished than they really are. ___  
>  _**2-4-11 Edit AN: ******Also, this is James’ perception of what his father is doing; the man’s not likely to tell his fourteenish son everything he’s going to do. And James is just as likely to read only what he wants to see in that correspondence, too. ___  
>  _Ye gads, I’ve got 35,000 words written on this thing already! ::sweat-drop:: I originally intended it to be about 20,000 or so. Ah, well; it’s flowing well, and as it’s not for publication, there’s no precise word limitation. Wheeee! ___  
> 


	5. Chapter 5

It wasn’t long before James found out that the Headmaster had taken points off Slytherin, for Snape being out of the castle after curfew that night--the old man must have taken them right after he found Snape was in the hospital wing; not even waiting for the Slytherin to wake first to give an explanation!  And not a minor points loss, either; he’d taken _fifty points_ from Slytherin!

Fifty!!

And he let them stand, even _after_ James had told the Headmaster what Snape’s _father_ had done!!

Plus, Dumbledore _hadn’t_ taken a _single point_ from Gryffindor...in spite of _two_ of its members being out-of-bounds after curfew, with clear intentions of being up to no good; with that particular Slytherin as their likely target.  James had even _admitted_ he’d been outright stalking Snape, until the boy’s father had showed up and shaken up the Gryffindor’s world-view!

James had been so mad when he discovered that _totally_ unfair points loss, he couldn’t see straight or even _talk_ for five whole minutes!  His magic had actually flared, and he’d nearly torn up the Gryffindor Common Room in a fine fit of accidental magic before getting himself somewhat back under control.  Snape’s House was no doubt absolutely _furious_ with him over those points!

When James had gotten himself together, his teeth clenched tight enough to be in danger of cracking as he glared at everything and nothing at once, everyone nearby had sidled away to give him more room once they got a look at that grimly determined face.  They’d never seen that expression on James Potter’s face before, and all silently agreed that it didn’t bode well for any innocent bystanders.

No one asked what message James then wrote and owled off; whatever it was, it was short.  The response that came the next morning put a grim smile on James’ face, and he gave the Headmaster a dark look liberally tinged with satisfaction when the owl then delivered a second scroll to Dumbledore.  The old man didn’t seem to really understand the message in that scroll, though; after reading his missive he appeared somewhat confused, shaking his purple-hatted head and checking the back of the parchment, before double-checking the signature.  Finally the Headmaster shrugged, Vanished the scroll somewhere that James _hoped_ wasn’t a rubbish bin, and calmly finished his breakfast.

That was when James started a determined campaign on Sirius, to get Snape into Gryffindor and away from his vicious Housemates.  There was no way James would trust any Slytherin with Snape’s wellbeing--even if there might be one or two more in that House who weren’t really Nasty, Evil Gits.  James couldn’t recall ever seeing Snape hanging about with any of them, except maybe for Sirius’ little brother, Regulus--and that had probably had more to do with Regulus trying to get away from his big brother’s picking on him, than any desire to be friends with Snape.  The little snot had simply known Sirius would prefer to go after Snape, if given a choice.

Saying Sirius Black was Not Happy with his best friend’s recent decisions would be an... _understatement_...of epic proportions.  In fact, it would be rather like saying that Professor McGonagall was just a _tiny_ bit less than lenient in her own classroom!  His brain simply refused to wrap around the facts James had told him, clinging instead to his illusions about Severus Snape’s mean, nasty, rotten, snarky, evil, Dark Arts-saturated soul.  James simply had to have been talking about someone else, and that was that.

There was just no way in Hell that Sirius Black was going to _share a dorm room--_ **WITH SEVERUS SNAPE!!**

The screaming fit Sirius threw when James first brought up this hare-brained scheme set ears ringing all throughout Gryffindor Tower, leaving no one’s hearing intact and thoroughly scaring the first _and_ second years--as well as many older students, whose first panicked thought was that the Tower was somehow under attack.  Many swore they felt the castle stones shaking, or saw the glass rattling in the windows.  Remus Lupin had his hands full, trying to reassure everyone that The End was not upon them, Gryffindor Tower and indeed Hogwarts Castle as a whole was intact and safe; and Sirius Black is actually quite harmless, didn’t you know?  We’re all Gryffindors, and we all know Sirius only goes unprovoked after Slytherins...right?

Actually, the vials of Calming Draught he sent Peter at a run to get from Madam Pomfrey were what finally helped calm the mass hysteria in the Tower.  Knowing both James and Sirius as well as he did, he went down himself later that night to see the Medi-Witch, and ask if he could stock up on the tranquilizing potion.

Pomfrey was more than generous with her supplies when Remus mentioned exactly what “hare-brained scheme” James was up to.  The pleased, yet slightly evil smile she gave him along with the astonishingly large and carefully padded crate packed with quite a few more potions bottles than he’d asked for set Remus’ neck-hairs at attention, though he didn’t dare to question her on it.  Either the Medi-Witch was more seriously annoyed with his friends than he’d thought, or she was secretly fond of Snape...or more nervous-making to him, _both._

Remus was at least slightly comforted in the knowledge that there was one Hogwarts staff member who seemed pleased with James’ scheme.  Besides, it was never a good thing to have the school Medi-Witch mad at you!

The gods-awful noise from Sirius repeated the next day when James tried again, with no lessening of volume or vitriol.  Sirius simply refused to even consider thinking about it, and swore some very creative retribution if James went ahead in spite of his opposition.

Their fellow Gryffindors by this point had all caught the idea whizzing invisibly through the air like a hot-pink Thestral in a lime green tutu, that one James Potter was planning on bringing a _Slytherin_ to live in _their_ Tower; to share the fourth-year boys’ dorm with him and his mates.  This did not increase James’ popularity with his Housemates; in fact, it led several to question his sanity, and whispers and mutters of _Confundus_ and even _Imperio_ could be heard wherever Gryffindors gathered, along with fledgling schemes aimed towards getting James to Madam Pomfrey whether he agreed to go or not.  He was obviously off his head, and might just be dangerous!

When the other Gryffindors found out just _which_ Slytherin James Potter was planning to inflict on them, their mass reaction had a lot in common with Sirius Black’s.

\- Except, of course, for Lily Evans.  She completely discounted the rumor with a disgusted roll of her eyes, figuring it was just another Marauder prank in the making.  She knew Severus had landed in the Infirmary again for three straight days, and was becoming more and more suspicious that Potter and his gang had put her friend there-- _again_.  She was aware that Severus never told her the half of what those idiots did to him, and she’d been unable to catch them at more than minor infractions, hard as she tried.  They always, _always_ seemed to know when she was nearby...

Remus spent a lot of time calming people down, trying to explain without explaining just _why_ James was having this sudden fit of apparent **insanity**.  None of the Marauders were quite fool enough to broadcast Snape’s private business with his father to the whole of their House, and so the entire school, though.  Remus and James, because they respected Snape’s right to privacy, and knew how _they_ would feel in Snape’s shoes (James being perfectly able to feel compassion, once he’d been figuratively bopped over the head to remind him to); Sirius, because he was still in denial over the whole thing and flat refused to speak of it; and Peter, because the other three were keeping mum and _he_ wasn’t going to be the one to spill the beans, _oh,_ no!  He was too busy hiding in any available nook until the furor should die down, anyway.

After a week of screaming fits and insults and angry lectures of all sorts from all directions by his House (and the distribution of about six gallons of Remus’ new store of Calming Draught, some of it actually slipped to Sirius), James finally got Sirius alone in an empty classroom and knocked him over, cast a Body-Bind and a Silencing Charm on him, and _sat_ on his best friend until he could get his reasons hammered through that thick skull.  He made certain he went over everything at least three times, as Sirius was trying his best to _not_ pay attention--until he finally realized that James was not only dead-serious about the whole thing, but _wasn’t_ going to un-hex Sirius and let him up until he’d _listened._

Which episode prompted a week of sulking and sighing and woebegone looks out of Sirius, that were nearly as annoying to the House as a whole as his screaming fits had been.  They were just--quieter.

Snape had been released from the hospital wing after spending three days there, but during Sirius’ prolonged sulking phase, James found out the Slytherin had already been sent back for brief healings-- _twice_.  He knew he and his friends hadn’t put Snape back there (he’d been keeping Sirius too busy arguing with him to prank Snape), and careful attention to their magical map had shown he’d never left Hogwarts--and his father hadn’t come to the school; probably the man was too leery of Dumbledore.  Not that James understood why; it seemed obvious to him that the Headmaster would make no special effort on behalf of a Slytherin student, he’d like as not send Snape straight home to his father if the man simply requested it.

His new disillusionment with the Headmaster stole away a great deal of James’ normal good cheer, leaving him quiet and downright sullen most of the time.  James didn’t approach the Headmaster to demand the old man do something.  He’d angrily decided it wasn’t going to happen, and anyway, his father was involved now; and _he_ certainlywouldn’t let Snape down!

Madam Pomfrey, being aware of James’ change of heart towards her secret favorite student, was suddenly more than willing to drop hints about just how often Mr. Snape was brought to her, and in what condition.  (Her “hints” were about as subtle as a Bludger to the head; just to be certain Mr. Potter didn’t miss them.  Gryffindors aren’t much into “subtle”, you know!  They’ve been known to miss a dragon in the room with them, until it breathed fire right in their faces!)  Her recent decision to become proactive on Mr. Snape’s behalf had her encouraging Mr. Potter’s scheme all that she could.

Sirius eventually agreed to at least ignore Snape’s presence in the Tower, so long as the Slytherin would return what Siriuscalled a “wildly unwarranted favor”.  The sulking boy took to glaring at his “ _Former_ best friend!” with more venom than even Snape had ever managed, choosing to sulk for days more on end before he’d even consider forgiving James...which Remus, at least, was certain he’d do; Sirius had been too close friends with James for too long to throw it all away over something Sirius knew very well was justified and, frankly, quintessentially Gryffindor.  It would just take some time for Sirius to wrap his mind around the whole idea that _he’d_ been such an idiot, for so long, after so thoroughly misjudging someone.

But--!

It was just--it -

“It’s Sna-a-ape!!”

The residents of Gryffindor Tower were heartily sick of the whining refrain a mere two days after Sirius caved to James’ wishes, and started half-heartedly yelling at Sirius to knock it off every time they saw him open his mouth.  Now that he was just incessantly whining instead of in full temper-tantrum or a simmering sulk just short of boiling over, they felt safer in trying to deal with him.  Eventually, Sirius got the message--when they started actually throwing things at him.

Of course, all of this was nothing compared to _Severus Snape’s_ reaction to James informing him of his prospective change in living quarters.

Snape spent fifteen minutes explaining to one James Potter--in a scarily soft and deep voice that did not crack or waver in the slightest, and carried his fury more effectively than all of Sirius’ week-long yelling--that, magically binding Oath or not, there was no way in Merlin’s sweetest dreams that he was ever in this _lifetime_ willingly setting foot in the heart of the territory belonging to the people at Hogwarts who _most_ gleefully wished him to be hexed to die slowly and painfully just for the sin of having been Sorted into Slytherin.  James may have given that Oath, and even astonishingly enough intend to keep it for more than five minutes; but the rest of Gryffindor House most certainly had _not,_ weren’t particularly likely to entertain the idea of doing so without heavy use of _Imperius_ , and moreover would much too thoroughly enjoy the opportunities presented by having a lone, unprotected Slytherin where no teaching staff was likely to happen by.

(Snape was well aware of Professor McGonagall’s style of oversight as Head of Gryffindor.  She basically let her House run wild in their own Tower, doing as they pleased so long as no one was injured, apparently not giving a care if they bothered with studying at all--let alone checking to see that they used good study habits.  Or even _knew_ any good study habits!  Lily had complained to him of it often enough.  He thought McGonagall exemplified the idea of Gryffindor insanity with just that one practice...)

(Professor Slughorn at least _checked_ on his Slytherins in their den on a daily basis.  Even if he disdained those who weren’t politically or financially connected enough to be of use to him, he at least took his responsibilities seriously enough to be certain they all knew the basics of good study habits, and weren’t hexing each other into oblivion in their own Common Room!  Slytherin prefects _earned_ their perks, as his delegates for instructing their Housemates.)

James was persistent, though; having adopted the idea of “Saving Snape” as something of a personal crusade.  He even-- _gasp! shock! horror!_ \--put getting Lily Evans to finally go out on a date with him on the back burner to helping Snape.

Which scared both Snape and Sirius equally badly, when each found out.

When it at first looked like Snape would be successful in refusing the move, Sirius perked up and began to forgive his best friend somewhat for this temporary bout of Slytherin-inspired insanity, no longer glaring death at him at every single chance--only every other.  Seeing James practically _ignore_ the One Light Of His Life And His Only Reason For Living (as James described Lily Evans-- **frequently** ) in favor of persuading Snape, though... _that_ told Sirius that if he wanted to remain friends with James, he was going to have to not only accept _that_ particular Slytherin git sharing his dorm--but he’d probably have to actively help James convince the git into doing it!

Which devastating realization stole anything resembling a smirk from Sirius’ face for days after, causing Remus to consider dragging him down to see Madam Pomfrey.  An un-smiling Sirius was certainly an ill Sirius!  Sirius Black just did not _do_ serious!  It was “I, not E, and _no_ IOUs!”

None of the other Marauders knew about James’ Oath to Snape.  He’d judiciously neglected to mention that, deciding not only that they’d never in a billion years understand, but he didn’t want to go through Sirius screaming the sky down-- _again._   Especially as Remus would probably lecture him to within an inch of his life for such an irresponsible (It was _not!_   He was finally being responsible for a change!), immature (James thought it had been rather an adult decision), reckless (Well, maybe a little...), _stupid_ (All right, that’s enough imagining what Remus would say!) -

A-hem.

James finally thought of a fool-proof way to get Snape’s cooperation, after a week straight of plaguing the other boy, who was nearly ready to hex James away from him in spite of the sense of hope he had in the Gryffindor’s Oath.  James dug up a Slytherin impulse from somewhere deep within himself--and “cheated”.

He sic’ed Lily Evans on Snape.

It had required all the courage James could muster, approaching his idolized Lily; but his newfound determination to help Snape (whether the Slytherin wanted that help, or not!) kept him from stammering or making foolish jokes to break the tension, or otherwise making the usual arrogant idiot of himself in front of _Her_.  This wasn’t a simple prank; it was something _important._   James was convinced that Snape’s very _life_ depended on this!  (His actually being right about that hadn’t helped him persuade Snape to move, for some reason...)  So James simply marched up to Lily as she sat studying by the fire in the Gryffindor Common Room, one fine Hogsmeade Saturday afternoon, when it was mostly empty of distracting Housemates--and earnestly announced that he needed her help to save a Slytherin.

That had confused and intrigued her just enough that she listened to his explanation before hexing him away.  What he said set her fiery temper alight to the point where accidental magic seemed likely; James could _feel_ her magic scrape along his nerves as it rattled loose items and rustled fabric throughout the room.  James could have sworn he actually saw _flames_ leap from her gorgeous green eyes!

The three other students in the Common Room just then decided they had other things to do, and scooted out the portrait hole in a hurry.  They didn’t even bother taking their study materials with them.

Great Merlin, but Lily Evans was _beautiful_ in a temper...!  It took a considerable effort for James to tear his thoughts away from pure adoration, and remember what he was doing.  But oh, Lily was _so_ beautiful; and oh so _formidable...!_

James had had no idea until their third year at Hogwarts that the ugly git Severus Snape and the beauteous angel Lily Evans had not only known each other before coming to Hogwarts; they had been neighbors, of a sort--and best friends.  It was no _wonder_ Lily was always so furious with them for picking on Snape!  He was her _best friend!_   Merlin--if she’d gone after Sirius like that from their first day at Hogwarts, James knew he’d never have become so fascinated with her, no matter _how_ beautiful and smart and funny and amazing she was.

Merlin’s fuzzy socks, he’d practically been hexing _himself_ every time he hexed Snape, at least as far as furthering his chances with Lily went--and he hadn’t even realized it!  He _had_ cut back just a bit on the pranks after finding out, but by then their rivalry and mutual antagonism was too ingrained to just drop it.  Besides, Sirius wouldn’t hold back against any Slytherin unless Dumbledore, himself personally hexed him into it, which wasn’t bloody likely to happen.

James rather dreaded to think what his mother was going to say when she inevitably found all this out.  He didn’t know which would be worse--the “I told you so” lecture about both thinking first and respecting others, including Slytherins; or the laughter he was certain was going to linger at odd moments for _weeks_ afterwards.  Talk about serving himself his just desserts...!  How embarrassing.

He had to tell Lily at least the bare bones of what had happened, which is how he found out that apparently Lily was well aware of Snape’s home circumstances, at least in a general sense.  It turns out Snape had spent his early childhood running away from home; which was how he’d met Lily, as their houses were within a few blocks of each other.  (How a pureblood like Tobias Snape had ended up living anywhere near Muggles confused James, but he just shrugged and forgot about it.  With magic, Muggles wouldn’t even know the Snapes were there at all.)  Snape’s mother had used to encourage Lily and her son to play together, until her death.  They’d decided to keep their friendship out of their Housemates’ faces, so to speak, when they ended up Sorted into opposing Houses--though Lily had insisted on claiming Snape as a study partner whenever possible, because she absolutely _refused_ to completely give up on their close friendship.  She only agreed to be at all subtle about it because she discovered the hard way what happened to Snape when she wasn’t--both verbal consequences, and...not.

James quickly squashed the rather guilty thought that Snape’s father might just have set James on the only path to actually have even the slightest of chances with Lily.

 _If_ she thought of Snape more as a brother, that is...rather than as a potential boyfriend.

Oh, _Merlin...!_   What would he do if Snape turned out to really be his strongest rival for Lily’s affections?

A sick feeling had surged up in his gut as he forced his brain to finish thinking a distasteful thought all the way through, for once, instead of brushing it off and ignoring it in hopes it would go away.  He knew he’d flubbed up royally for four whole years; he hadn’t treated Lily at all right, he’d made pretty much every mistake in the book...while Snape _had_ done everything right.  Snape never insulted her even by accident, he was at least coldly courteous in public to her and her friends no matter their House, he never started anything when she was there; he _stopped_ hexing when she showed up and before she even demanded it, even when James and his friends didn’t--Merlin’s wand, she even appreciated that razor-barbed tongue Snape had, stifling laughter at some of his most cutting remarks to James and his friends!

Not to mention that _he’d_ just recently sworn a magically binding Oath to treat Snape as his own brother--which would mean Snape “had dibs” on Lily six ways from Sunday.  If he were really interested.  Which James wasn’t about to come right out and ask, just in case Snape was taking his friendship with Lily in any way for granted and didn’t realize what a wonderful, beautiful, _special_ girl she was -

Yeah, _right_.  James knew for a fact that Snape was _loads_ more observant than he was, never mind smarter.  There was no way the Slytherin didn’t idolize Lily Evans, at least a little bit!  Why else would the gi--er, Snape do pretty much anything she asked him to, with hardly a murmur of complaint?

The only reason James could think of about why Snape might not have asked her out yet, was that the boy didn’t want to jeopardize their friendship--so far as James knew, Lily was Snape’s _only_ friend.  And as a Gryffindor, she might be hurt for their friendship getting _that_ close--if only by snubbing from the rest of her House.  If Snape cared about her at all, he’d _have_ to be worried about that.  Lily was a very social girl.  Snape was much too smart not to think it could ever happen to her, or not hurt her badly when it did.

James was morose for _days_ after realizing all that, in spite of having successfully gotten Lily to bully Snape into doing as he wished, and was soon a right proper bookend match to Snape’s gloomy attitude about his new circumstances.

(It took all of fifteen seconds of Lily practically gushing with happiness to Snape about his being in Gryffindor Tower with her, before the now greatly subdued Slytherin caved.  The poor boy almost seemed to physically shrink in on himself, though not without giving James a glare fit to melt the stone wall behind him.  Her quick success was very depressing on several levels, really--not least because her tactics had been more than a little Slytherin!)

Including Lily Evans in his scheming had one added benefit that James hadn’t considered, but all three of them enjoyed, each in their own way.  When the Headmaster came across James and Lily physically moving a morose and glowering Severus Snape up to Gryffindor Tower just shy of at wand-point, Dumbledore’s quick annoyance at the thought of a _Slytherin_ living in amongst his precious Gryffindors died a swift and thorough death under Lily’s amazingly acidic glare and subsequent tongue-lashing.

The Headmaster did a rather good impression of a toddler receiving a parental reprimanded for something particularly foolish, no matter that he actually was quite close to finishing the helpful process of emancipating Mr. Snape.  The old man honestly hadn’t thought that young Snape would need immediate help, not while still at Hogwarts.  He’d thought he had plenty of time to arrange things, then inform the boy a week before the summer holidays for finalization.

Dumbledore hadn’t been down to the Hospital Wing since he spoke to Mr. Snape there, and Poppy’s quarterly report stating which students had been tended to wasn’t due yet; but he certainly was an old enough educator to have realized that Slytherin House would be...disappointed...in the fifty points loss accredited to Snape.  Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw might not have reacted violently to such a sudden loss, but both Gryffindor and Slytherin would be historically prone to taking their frustrations out on the responsible student.  His oversight was inexcusable.

James and Snape both watched in nervous awe as Lily proceeded to harangue the old man until he obviously felt about two inches tall.  James was especially impressed; she was surpassing even her most vitriolic lectures to him and his fellow Marauders!  He expected the color to be stripped right from the castle’s almost quivering walls by her words, she was so furious!  The local painted denizens had certainly fled their portraits for safer climes within her first few words.  Not that she was _loud--_ oh, no; Lily Evans had evidently taken notes off her best friend’s vocal style--clear and precise enunciation; lower than normal, deep tones; volume just slightly less than normal, to encourage undivided attention--she seemed to be all but _hissing_ in fury, too.

Catching sight of Potter mooning at the absolutely furious Lily like a loves-truck loon, Severus rolled his eyes and sighed, then went back to appreciatively watching the verbal filleting of the Headmaster of Hogwarts.  Lily so rarely let loose with her temper, but he was always appreciative--so long as it wasn’t aimed at _him._   He could hardly fault Potter for being as impressed as Severus was; the Slytherin simply didn’t broadcast the feeling on his face for all to see.

Severus was rather surprised to find Lily knew quite _that_ much about what the Marauders had been doing to him, though.  He’d been trying his best to keep her out of it, as they _were_ her Housemates; he didn’t want the idiots to try and start something with Lily.  She might end up hurt!  (...Well, it _was_ vaguely possible _._   She might hurt herself, while breaking the morons into tiny little pieces...)  He just couldn’t allow even the chance of that happening because of him, unlikely as it was.

...On second thought, maybe he should have asked for her help from day one.  He stared at the almost visibly shrinking Headmaster, then flicked another sideways look at the silently awestruck James.  His memory weighed up all the pain and humiliation the Marauders had heaped on him since they all started school, versus a sense of pride that would probably not have been bruised hardly at all--once people realized he was brave enough to befriend, and even _argue with_ a girl who had a tongue and temper sharp enough to cow a full-grown dragon!

His Slytherin instincts metaphysically threw a dozen books at his head for exhibiting a downright _Gryffindor_ level of bull-headedness, in not taking advantage of Lily’s offered protection.  What _had_ he been thinking?!  If nothing else, the teachers would have been forced to take a hand and actually stop the prank war while Hogwarts was still standing!  Lily wouldn’t have fooled around; she’d have done things to _definitely_ make the Marauders think twice about even looking cross-eyed at Severus!

Lily’s main theme was the Headmaster’s responsibility to protect _all_ of the students at Hogwarts, no matter their House--even from their own families, when there was evidence of them being abused.  It was his duty as a human being, never mind as a powerful Wizard and leader of men!  She was particularly incensed when she pointed out that if Severus had been Sorted into Gryffindor, the Headmaster wouldn’t even have hesitated _one moment_ before helping him, now would he!  And how could he have been permitting all of the abuse Severus had suffered _right at Hogwarts,_ at the hands of fellow students?!  It was the teachers’ responsibility to _protect_ students, wasn’t it; _not_ to allow regular bullying to frequently put them into the Hospital Wing!  How was anyone supposed to help Slytherin children keep from going Dark as they grew up, when the Headmaster of their very own school was all but pushing them to it?!  Wasn’t that how Tom Riddle became Lord What’s-His-Name, anyway!?  And Severus was a Slytherin only because he’d talked the Sorting Hat _out_ of putting him in Gryffindor--because of a certain pair of prats who’d tormented him on their first train-ride to school, and never even been properly reprimanded for it, never mind punished!  Severus had _just_ as much right to live in their Tower as Lily, by her reckoning!

Lily’s angry lecture had been building ever since her first year at Hogwarts, and there was no way of stopping it now.  She’d never had an opportunity to vent on a teacher while her temper was this high before, and wasn’t about to waste it--especially when Severus’ very _life_ was now in danger, from his own father!

Such a lecture coming from Minerva McGonagall (again!) would have been bad enough; but to have one of his brightest, most favorite Lions berate Dumbledore so--with such well-thought-out and logical arguments, too!  And even worse; for the Headmaster to realize, deep down in his wizened old heart where he couldn’t ignore the sudden burn of intense shame, that she was _right...!_   He’d had no business delegating Mr. Snape’s immediate protection to the boy himself; Slytherin or not, he was only _fourteen years old._   A Slytherin child was still a _child_ , just like any other.

Lily was protecting her best friend in true Gryffindor fashion; she was a credit to her House.  Dumbledore couldn’t bring himself to even resent her for pointing out his greatest failing in less than total privacy, much less punish her for disrespect to a professor.  He’d lost the right to her respect in this, by rather grievously shirking his own duty to her best friend for so many years.  He’d written the boy off, as he tended to do with Slytherin students; finding it difficult to understand such reserved, seemingly cold-blooded ways of thinking as they tended to favor.  Who knew how much harm he, personally, had caused the boy to suffer through his negligence?

Albus truly didn’t _know_ if he were at fault for Tom Riddle’s turning so irretrievably Dark; but it was quite obvious that young Severus Snape, at least, was more than salvageable.  The boy looked to idolize Lily, by his nearly worshipful expression just then as he stared at her.  The expression wasn’t as blatant as Mr. Potter’s, but it was unmistakable to aged eyes that had seen it so many times before.  Dumbledore had frankly forgotten the boy had grown up with the Muggle-born Lily Evans as a neighbor, and childhood friend.  He had to admit upon reflection that it was Mr. Snape who always showed impeccable manners and courtesy to others, no matter how coldly unemotional his manner seemed or how biting his words could be taken as...even when he wasn’t the one who’d started things with the Gryffindors.

It was the boy’s infuriating stony face, usually allowing nothing but anger and contempt to show through, combined with his too-accurate and deeply cutting remarks that put Albus off the most.  He’d never seen the boy smile, but for that nasty, evil-eyed grimace he got when he bested one of the Marauders.

Then again, he never looked at the Slytherin boy if he could help it, now did he.  The boy could be smiling through half his day, and Albus would never _see_ it.

Considering what his favorite Gryffindor boys usually got up to doing to Mr. Snape, it was hardly surprising the boy had come to rather savagely enjoy getting them back.  Certainly no one else would do it for him...or even try to protect him from them.  Poppy Pomfrey had remonstrated with Albus on more than one occasion about his Gryffindors’ cruelty.  He’d laughed it off as merely boyish hijinks that they’d all eventually grow out of, and told her it was Horace’s responsibility to look after his little snakes and take steps if he thought things were getting out of hand.  It was better to let them get it out of their systems at school, than to let it fester over into their adult lives.

Albus had never really listened when Minerva or Poppy went on about Horace Slughorn’s inability to deal appropriately with children; he’d always believed, and told them so, that it was a Slytherin thing; that Horace was dealing with those children in the manner they’d best understand.  He’d never quite understood why Poppy would go into a speechless froth of a temper when he said that...  Horace always said and did the right things around Dumbledore, after all--the Headmaster being probably _the_ most powerful wizard alive.  Minerva’s strident insistence that they were children long before they were Slytherins fell on his selectively deaf ears without causing a ripple in his conscience.

When Lily finally wound down, the Headmaster all but slunk off, bidding them a quiet good move and not making a sound towards stopping them.  Lily glared after him with bright emerald fire still in her eyes, before spinning on her heel and imperiously ordering James and Severus to _move_.  The boys obeyed with slightly wild-eyed alacrity, clutching at the handles on each end of Severus’ trunk, unusually united in purpose--looking as if they’d quite like to use that trunk as a shield between them and the girl’s violent-seeming temper.  Accidental magic was rattling the portraits and suits of armor along the corridors, crackling through and lifting Lily’s fiery auburn hair like a wayward breeze, skittering across the boys’ skin like the static before a lightning strike that they had no wish to invite.

There had been no more challenges on the way to Gryffindor Tower.  Not even from a glowering Sirius, who was lounging with Remus and Peter in the Common Room.  One look at Lily’s thunderous face was enough to make even Sirius Black actually think before he spoke!

Lily’s eyes didn’t finally stop burning with anger until the next morning at breakfast, where she’d rather forcefully hauled an unusually timid-seeming Severus Snape by the wrist to sit with her at the end of the Gryffindor table nearest the staff table.  She’d given him no chance to refuse, and he’d been a tad too anxious over her lingering fury to risk it, anyway.

He _did_ grow up with her, after all.  He _knew_ she was a good bit scarier than all four Marauders put together, when she was riled up!  Even without magic.  Potter and Black had no idea of the danger they were in whenever they messed with Lily.  Mr. Evans had made certain that both of his daughters knew the rudiments of Muggle-style self-defense, after all--especially the prettier Lily, who left home for a boarding school full of strange boys for nine months of the year.

Her stylish trainers, a customized present from her father, had _very_ solid toes...lined as they were with steel inserts.

 

**_To be continued..._ **

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _**AN: ******::gasp:: I think a plot’s actually trying to intrude! O.O How did that happen?! ::snicker:: ___  
> 


	6. Chapter 6

Professor Minerva McGonagall, Head of Gryffindor House, finally caught wind of what was happening two entire days after Severus Snape was “safely” stowed away in the fourth-year Gryffindor boys’ dorm.  (Where Remus had taken the initiative and rearranged things so the transplanted Slytherin was between him and James, with both Peter and Remus between Sirius and such completely irresistible temptation.  James was specifically moved to the bed between Snape and the door.  Remus didn’t say if that was to prevent pranking from any other Gryffindors, or to keep the rather nervous Slytherin from fleeing in the night.  The other three Gryffindors didn’t dare complain about the rearrangement, too busy trying to get over their shock that Remus had actually been _assertive_ for once.)  None of the wards Professor McGonagall had long ago put on Gryffindor Tower to alert her to proverbial mass murder and mayhem had alerted her to anything being wrong, as the recent hullabaloo had been much more sound and fury than anything like death and destruction; no one had been sent to the Hospital Wing, after all.  None of her little lions had sought her out with any complaints or concerns for nearly three weeks, either.

Which in and of itself was somewhat worrisome, in the House that contained the four self-styled Marauders!

The Professor couldn’t quite recall going more than five days straight without alarums and excursions in her House’s Common Room, not since Those Boys came to Hogwarts.  Which really should have had her investigating the unnatural quiet sooner; except her N.E.W.T.-level Transfiguration students were already having this year’s collective pre-exam epic melt-down, and needed extra attention for counseling and reassurance to avert possible self-combustion--even the Slytherins.

Minerva McGonagall was strict enough in her own classroom that gossip stopped at the door, or she might have had more warning that Something Was Afoot in Gryffindor.  The Professor had finally overheard a couple of her most incorrigibly chatty third year Gryffindor girls muttering gravely to each other about “Potter’s Insanity”, as she made her rounds amongst the students attempting to transfigure potted dandelions into little lion plushie toys--an exercise guaranteed to send her Slytherin students absolutely spare.  She held no sympathy for them, though, as the previous week she’d had this same group transfiguring sticks into _live_ snakes; which exercise had drawn a great deal of discontented grumbling and glowering from her Gryffindors.

Worried about a new spate of pranks to make up for the recent and quite unexpected dearth, she’d promptly grilled the two girls for details.  Their surprising answers had sent her eyebrows to her hairline, and got the two chronic gossipers out of a detention with Mr. Filch that evening for failing to pay attention in class-- _again_.  (The mostly furry, if slightly green-tinged lion plushies on their desk also helped; at least _these_ two had no leaves remaining in odd places, and the mane wasn’t all yellow petals!  Not to mention the vaguely disturbing root-like, slowly _wriggling_ toes that Mr. Sinclair’s plushy sported.  Really, how hard was it to visualize a lion, for Merlin’s sake?!  Especially as she’d pinned a large _picture_ of a cheerful-looking lion plushie to the board at the front of the classroom!)

Professor McGonagall had a hard time paying attention in her own classroom for the last two classes of that day.  _What_ in _Merlin’s name_ could possibly have prompted Mr. Potter to bring _any_ Slytherin into the Tower?!!  This was-- _unprecedented_ , to say the least!  Not to mention extremely worrisome.

And _how_ in the name of Merlin’s polka-dot nightshirt had the boy managed to convince or hex his friends into going along with it?!  Had her Tower wards failed her after all?  Poppy hadn’t sent notice recently of any of her lions being in the Hospital Wing...

The Professor had noticed Mr. Snape’s new mealtime seat in the Great Hall, but had put it down to Miss Evans’ quite obvious insistence--the girl had almost looked to be yanking the boy’s arm from its socket as she all but dragged him after her, at first.  Luckily for him, he hadn’t seemed prone to resisting too much.

Unlike the Headmaster, Minerva McGonagall had never forgotten that Mr. Snape and Miss Evans had been childhood friends long before coming to Hogwarts; and she had seen that the two had stubbornly refused for four years to be parted by House divisions.  She had silently applauded them for it--especially their careful discretion in not rubbing their Housemates’ faces in their friendship and thus sparking further hostilities than normal between the two most volatile Hogwarts Houses.

She _hadn’t_ been aware, however, of Mr. Snape’s sudden change of residence.  Which bothered her on so many levels, not least that she _hadn’t known_ something so momentous, unprecedented, and potentially destructive had happened!!

Just before curfew that night, the Head of Gryffindor marched straight up to Gryffindor Tower to find out for herself exactly what in Merlin’s blush-worthy pink boxers young James Potter thought he was _doing_ \--that is, _if_ the girls had been correct, and not simply speculating on a wild rumor.  Though they claimed to have _personally_ seen Severus Snape being all but dragged through their Common Room and up to the boys’ dorms by one James Potter...  There were several explanations as to how that could have happened that did not involve the real Mr. Snape at all, but Minerva was fairly certain that at least three-fourths of them were well beyond any Marauder’s ability.

She certainly _hoped_ three-fourths of them were still beyond any Marauder’s ability!!

Professor McGonagall entered their dorm after giving only the most perfunctory of knocks.  It was much too early to be concerned for the boys’ modesty, and she knew giving them too much warning merely gave them time to ‘hide the evidence’, if necessary.

Mr. Lupin yelped and jumped off his bed as the door swung open to reveal his Head of House, the textbook he’d been studying falling to the floor with a thump.  Mr. Pettigrew startled and lifted his head from where he was draped half-off his own bed, his books spread out open on the floor as he had stared unseeing at them while half-dozing; he squeaked in wide-eyed surprise when he saw her.  The small boy nearly slid completely off his mattress onto his head before catching himself with a wild grab at the sheets.

Sirius Black was missing, she noted--which was probably a very good thing; as one Severus Snape was sitting on his own newly Lupin-assigned bed, having been reading ahead in his texts as _his_ homework was, as usual, already completed.  The displaced Slytherin’s somewhat homely face remained blank as he calmly looked up at her, as if he’d been expecting a professor to barge in unannounced at any moment.

Minerva was observant enough to catch the flicker of trepidation that crossed those sharp features, and wondered at it.  Could it be...the boy was actually somewhat content to be there?  Sharing a dorm with the very boys who’d been making his life at Hogwarts most miserable?!  There certainly was _something_ odd going on here!

The most amazing thing, however, was that one James Potter was settled cross-legged on his own bed--text books and parchment, loosely capped ink bottle, and various quills scattered haphazardly about him; one quill tucked forgotten behind his ear, another being used to _write out an assignment_.  Mr. Potter was actually absorbed enough _in his homework_ that his Head of House gaped at him in open astonishment for almost two full minutes before he raised his head and noticed her, giving a start and dropping his quill as his eyes widened in surprise.

Maybe having Severus Snape rooming with her most troublesome lions _wouldn’t_ be an unmitigated disaster...especially if it got James Potter to voluntarily _study!_   She would even forgive an _Imperius_ on Snape’s part, if that’s what it took to accomplish this near-miracle!  She wiped a completely wide-eyed look of shock off her face only with great difficulty, completely losing track of what she’d been meaning to say.

The boys had no doubt as to why their Head of House was there, in spite of her silence.  After a few minutes of stuttering and talking over each other while trying to excuse and explain--except for Mr. Snape, who only watched quietly with growing trepidation--Mr. Lupin and Mr. Pettigrew finally looked almost helplessly to a highly nervous Mr. Potter to explain what was going on.  Professor McGonagall listened to it all with growing amazement that was quickly tinged with more than a hint of annoyance, and even outright anger at the Headmaster--and absolute fury at one Tobias Snape.

The Transfiguration Professor could easily picture Albus’ first reaction; she’d no doubt James was spot-on in his assessment of the Headmaster’s probable lack of _appropriate_ action, though she suspected the old man did have something up his sleeve that he had neglected to mention to any of the boys.  He’d be in for a grilling as soon as she was certain the Tower wasn’t in imminent danger of going up in flames, though that didn’t seem so likely as it had before she saw the boys together.  Granted, she didn’t know where Mr. Black was, yet...if he didn’t show for breakfast the next morning, she just might have to start discretely searching closets and unused classrooms for a bound and silenced boy.

She wasn’t entirely certain what she’d do if she _found_ him thus...that would have to depend on the boy’s state of mind, she supposed.  If he was set to be obstinately against Mr. Potter’s plan, then she’d have to...take steps, to ensure the peace in Gryffindor Tower.  Regretfully, a nightly Petrificus Totalus would probably not be allowable...  The Professor sighed, half in vexation and half in anticipation of sleepless nights spent restraining herself from inappropriately hexing Mr. Black.

Still, she was pleasantly surprised that _James Potter,_ of _all_ people, had overcome his own childish self-delusions and prejudice enough that he actually _wanted_ _to_ _help_ Mr. Snape.  That young man was finally starting to grow up, Merlin bless!  She’d begun to despair she’d ever see that day!

She decided there was one change she wished to make in James’ plans for Mr. Snape, though.  Amusing as the thought of James Potter and Severus Snape sharing the same house over the holidays was, even only the two short weeks of the Easter holidays, she really did want them both to survive to return to Hogwarts afterwards--not to mention the stress on James’ poor parents, both of whom she remembered quite clearly and with fondness from their own Hogwarts days as her students.

Yes, she even wanted the snarky, sullen Mr. Snape to come back in one piece.  She was rather fond of the boy’s acidic wit, and certainly appreciated his exemplary study habits.  The practical demonstration of Transfiguration tended to give him trouble at times, about which she had her suspicions as to the cause--which might now be irrelevant, if he and the Marauders were getting along.  Once he understood something, Mr. Snape _knew_ it, most times well enough to actually improvise new uses for it.  She expected him to start experimenting with wandless magic at any time.  However difficult he found a lesson, that boy always _tried_ \--unlike most of his Quidditch-obsessed age-mates.

\--Not to say that Quidditch was a bad thing, mind you.  Not at all!  Quidditch was a _very_ important part of a child’s school years!  Why, just the experience of teamwork--

Shaking her head slightly as she gathered her scattering thoughts, still somewhat dazed from the sight of James Potter actually, voluntarily _studying_ \--she glanced once more at the work spread out across his bed, just to be certain she hadn’t been imagining things--Professor McGonagall focused on the three sweating boys staring at her with big, nervous eyes.  She had somehow managed to keep her face set in its usual stern lines in front of her students--mostly, anyway.  Then she focused her attention fully on a sullen-seeming Mr. Snape, who was hiding his trepidation with a great deal more success--if you didn’t know him well enough to realize that the tightly crossed arms with a seemingly absent tracing of one finger over his thin lips was a sign of near-paralyzing nerves.  The white knuckles of the hand supporting that elbow was another giveaway.  She was sure he would have bruises from his grip come morning.

“Mr. Snape.  Has Mr. Potter persuaded you to stay with his family for the holidays yet?”  She didn’t bother to artificially gentle her tone, knowing that would actually make the poor boy even more uncomfortable and nervous.  She kept to her usual sharp, no-nonsense manner, trusting it would soothe him more than any unfamiliar behavior.

Wary black eyes flicked to Potter, then back to her.  “...No, Ma’am.  I can’t think that would be a good idea.”  He held her gaze steadily, and she realized by the almost fearful wariness in those black eyes that he must think she was going to nix Potter’s whole plan, sending him back to the Slytherin dorm--and straight back to his father again, come the holidays.

She shook her head, holding back most of a small, sad smirk.  The boy didn’t know her very well at all, if he could think that!  Minerva McGonagall most certainly did _not_ share Albus Dumbledore’s prejudice against all things Slytherin.  She was equally strict with _all_ of the four Houses, though she could easily see how the Slytherin students might miss noticing that when pretty much all of their other professors truly were harder on them than the other Houses, to at least some degree.  Even Hufflepuff’s forgiving Head of House tended to take points off Slytherin first, then find out what actually happened later.  Many teachers never rescinded any points loss when it turned out they’d taken them from the wrong party, too.

What she’d heard that night told Professor McGonagall that she didn’t know this pale, quiet young Slytherin nearly as well as she’d thought after four years of teaching him, even accounting for him not being in her House.  Her estimation of him had risen a notch or three--especially as Mr. Potter’s sometimes rather guilty recitation had included some quite strong hints that she’d not caught the half of what he and his friends had been doing with their pranking and picking on Slytherins; this Slytherin, especially.  She’d foolishly trusted that the boys meant no true harm in their prank war with Mr. Snape, just as Albus had always insisted; in spite of the number of times Mr. Snape ended up in the Infirmary.  She’d put that down to sloppy execution and general carelessness on her boys’ part, along with a deplorable lack of thought towards any consequences to their pranks.  That had fit well with their performance in class, after all.

It looked more and more like they truly _had_ meant the harm they’d done at those times, and a good deal more besides.

She was more than merely disappointed in her lions.

She was also rather disappointed in Poppy Pomfrey.  Poppy and Minerva had been good friends for years; the Medi-Witch should have come to Minerva with concerns for Mr. Snape’s well-being, if he was deposited in her care so often!  Though if Poppy had gone straight to Albus and been unsatisfied with the results, she might not think there was anything the _Deputy_ Head could actually do.  She probably hadn’t wanted to bother her friend with worrying over a boy not even of Minerva’s own House.

Professor McGonagall’s face flashed a flinty expression for a moment as she mentally scheduled a little chat with the school’s Medi-Witch, to remind her that Minerva really and truly _wanted_ to be “bothered” with cases such as this!!  If the two of them working together couldn’t figure out ways around Albus Dumbledore and his petty prejudices and too-lenient ideals, they ought to retire, because their wits were obviously going!  If nothing else, they could take turns haranguing the old fool to within an inch of his life, until he took what _they_ felt to be appropriate action.

Reigning in her increasingly angry thoughts and concentrating on the important matter to hand, Professor McGonagall held Mr. Snape’s eyes as she calmly said, “No...it would not be a good idea at all, Mr. Snape.  However--since you are not committed, I have an alternative for you.”  Those wary black eyes widened in surprise, especially as the boy noticed the distinct and quite unexpected _twinkle_ lurking in the Deputy Head’s direct gaze.  “For the upcoming Easter holiday, I would like to invite you to come and stay with _me_ , in my home.  I can certainly protect you from that--that--so-called _father_ of yours!”

The sheer venom in her voice as she spoke of that--that-- _monstrous,_ _so-called_ “ **man** ”, had all of the boys’ eyes saucer-sized.

“For the Ministry’s sake, we’ll say I’m considering offering you an Apprenticeship.  I’ve no doubt you will receive numerous Outstandings on your O.W.L.s; certainly more than any other student this year, and probably for the last several decades.  The Ministry will think I want to get the jump on the other Professors and claim you for my field of expertise.  The holiday would be a perfect occasion to see how well we get on together outside of regular teacher-student interactions, especially as you are not in my own House.

“If things go as well as I expect they will, then we can see about making the arrangement--permanent.”  She finished her offer with a firm, decisive nod, knowing the boy was quick enough to figure out in short order that she wasn’t talking about actually merely apprenticing him; but something much more legally binding, to protect him from _that man._

Professor McGonagall had a hard time fighting the grin that wanted to come over her face, in spite of the righteous anger that had begun to surge through her at first hearing what had been happening to Mr. Snape, at the utterly dumbfounded look the Slytherin boy suddenly wore.  He appeared to have lost all control over his expression.  Her protective instincts were rising in full force now, centering on the pale, slender slip of a boy who looked so deceptively fragile, though she knew very well that he was not.  After all, he had survived his so-called **father’s** abuse, _and_ held his own against her four most troublesome lions for four years now...and, if Mr. Potter were to be believed, against his own Housemates in Slytherin, as well.

Mr. Snape hadn’t spoken a single denial as he’d listened to Mr. Potter’s recitation with a stony face, though his eyes had flickered with surprise at a couple of James’ admissions.  She had a feeling that Slytherin House had been the harder task, as he’d had to _live_ with his Housemates.

That could easily account for Mr. Snape’s reputation for knowledge of Dark curses.  If he’d used his head to protect himself in his own dorm, then his reputation was probably carefully and quite deliberately crafted to keep as many of his fellow Slytherins as scared as possible of crossing him.  He needn’t actually have cast even a quarter of what was attributed to him; simply refusing to speak of it while wearing a disdainful expression at the right moments, and not deigning to deny anything, would send the student rumor-mill wild with speculation, until no one could remember _what_ they’d truly seen--or _not_ seen.  The children would naturally believe the worst, as that was the most _exciting_ thing to believe.

It would be a quintessentially Slytherin way to deal with the matter.

Her lips tightened as she felt suddenly drenched by a hefty dollop of cold self-recrimination.  Things had gone well beyond acceptable school limits _years_ ago, and she was mortified that she’d never even suspected much of it.  Not even the paternal abuse!  That should have been obvious during his first term at Hogwarts!

How in Merlin’s name had _Horace_ missed that?!  Did the man never speak with half of his own House!?

Professor McGonagall had stopped being concerned about the self-styled “Marauders” and their prank war with Mr. Snape, except for the fallout trouble with bystanders--and the inevitable property damage--halfway through their first year.  She’d never even considered what went on within the privacy of Slytherin House’s dormitories, as that was Horace’s responsibility.  It seemed she’d been a bit...premature in assuming things were as they seemed; with all of the boys.

It was high time she took her own miscreants to task for their misbehavior, before they did something unforgivable--and possibly irreversible.  Though their apparent change of heart must go a long way to mitigate anything she would do to them...perhaps simply keeping them too busy to even think up pranks might help.  Especially if they were kept busy in her own presence, as much as possible.  With James behaving as he now was, her only real concern was the absent Mr. Black.

A nasty feeling coiled about in her gut at the thought that a nice, long, confidential chat with Poppy Pomfrey officially in her role of Deputy Head might leave her kicking herself for her blindness...and quite possibly with more students than Mr. Snape.  She needed to be certain Poppy always came to her, _first_ in any of these cases, from now on.  They simply would not bother Albus with details until things were already settled to their satisfaction.  Albus was too prone to overlook suspicions of abuse, preferring to idealistically believe that parents just would not _do_ that sort of thing to their own children.  When he did reluctantly act, it was usually in too-subtle, sometimes ineffective ways that did more to salve adult egos, than give true aid to the child involved.

Another sudden thought sent a cold shiver of fear up her back.  She knew James, Sirius, and Peter had gotten the secret of Remus’ lycanthropy out of him by their second year, and had embarked upon an ambitious plan to all three become Animagi in order to keep him company on full moon nights.  Albus, lost in his usual fog of twinkling insanity, had fondly thought to indulge their initiative, asking Professor McGonagall to keep a close eye on their progress to be sure they didn’t harm themselves-- _without_ letting the little hellions know anyone on staff knew what they were doing, of course.  (She’d very nearly done Albus physical violence when he first brought up _that_ hare-brained scheme!)  Luckily, the boys never paid any attention to stray tabby cats in odd corners or shadowy spots, or thought to consider how convenient it was that certain Restricted books came to their attention as they progressed through their self-training.

But--sweet Merlin...what if one of the boys had decided to put a true scare into Mr. Snape, and had lured him out to the Shrieking Shack during the full moon?!  Oh, but _there_ could have been a pretty tragedy--!  Mr. Snape could have been either killed or infected with lycanthropy!  Not to mention that if Albus had handled such a tragedy in his usual highly prejudicial manner, if the Slytherin had survived he’d have most certainly been inclined away from Dumbledore and the Light, and headed straight for You-Know-Who’s camp!  And she’d not have been able to blame the boy for it at all.

As Severus Snape had been Sorted into Slytherin, it had been Horace Slughorn’s direct responsibility as his Head of House to protect and care for the boy while he was at Hogwarts, as a surrogate parent.  Even if Mr. Snape hadn’t felt comfortable going to Horace with his problems, Horace should certainly have known all about the boy’s too-frequent visits to the Hospital Wing!  The man had obviously failed his responsibility, and dismally; at least in this one student’s case.  She wondered just how many more innocents in Slytherin were falling through the cracks opened by the man’s narrow-focused, sycophantic behavior to _only_ those he thought could give him some sort of advantage.

As Deputy Head of Hogwarts, it was certainly within her rights and her duty to take up Horace’s slack as her subordinate; and besides, she knew what sort of trouble involving the inept Ministry in the matter would bring down upon Mr. Snape’s head.  The boy had more than enough troubles as it was, without _that_ kind of circus going on.  They’d no doubt bounce him around between extremely poor foster home choices, possibly even an orphanage, until they decided to hand him right back to his abusive father as a “lost cause--the boy’s a Slytherin, after all; and you know how _they_ are!”

Besides, she was rather fond of Mr. Snape’s sharp, acidic wit.  She’d had to restrain more than a few appreciative smirks in her class, as it would have been quite improper for a teacher to show approval of any sort to a student denigrating another in such a manner--even when it was more than provoked, and subtle enough that generally, the other students completely missed exactly what the insult _was._   If Mr. Snape had perfected his delivery with a smiling, cheerful expression, they’d never even guess they’d been insulted at all!  And such well-earned insults they were, too...  She rather looked forward to crossing words with him, truth be told, if she could get him comfortable enough with her to trust she’d not unduly discipline him for it.  Not outside of class, anyway.  She’d wager the boy was practically starved for intelligent conversation that did not revolve around girls and Quidditch.

\--Not that there was _anything_ wrong with Quidditch!!  _Hmph._

The poor boy was still staring at her with his jaw agape, black eyes large as saucers, nearly falling over in his shock.  He quite obviously couldn’t string two thoughts together coherently just then.  Professor McGonagall kept her face straight and her posture stiff only through sheer willpower--the temptation to break down in hysterical laugher was quite strong, she actually had to discreetly bite down on the tip of her tongue to quell it.  As soon as she was certain she wouldn’t embarrass herself by snickering, she let him off the hook--for a while, anyway.

With an unavoidable slight upturning of the corners of her lips, Professor McGonagall gently told him, “You don’t have to decide right this minute, Mr. Snape.  There are three weeks until the holiday, after all.  Please do be sure to let me know your answer at least three days before the Hogwarts Express is scheduled to take students home.”

She’d simply make arrangements in the hope he’d accept her offer--if not this time, then perhaps over the summer.  With a determined nod and a lingering, almost warm glance at the poor shocked boy, the professor spun about with an impressive flaring of her forest-green robes and regally strode from the dorm, leaving four dumbfounded boys behind her.

-.-.-.-

Over the next two weeks, Severus Snape and the Marauders were all on remarkably good behavior--for them, especially.  James kept a tight rein on Sirius’ baser impulses, nipping pranks in the bud before they could go from idea to practice.  It also helped, immensely, that Snape carefully kept a civil tongue with them.  Lack of provocation made Sirius look like an idiot for trying to attack him in any way, and Sirius _loathed_ looking like an idiot.  As opposed to being _called_ an idiot, which was something entirely different in his book...all of which just barely kept him from being resentful enough of his best mate to start a prank war on _James._

Professor McGonagall’s inspired, fifteen-minute speech when she caught up with Sirius definitely gave him some quite specific personal consequences to think about, as well.

The other Gryffindors were rather spooked by Snape’s good behavior--not to mention that of the Marauders!  They didn’t know what to make of it all.  Everyone was on tenterhooks, waiting for the other shoe to drop.  A non-insulting Snape?  Prank-less Marauders?!  What was the world coming to!!?!

\--Well, not _entirely_ prank-less.  The rest of House Slytherin wasn’t suddenly off-limits, after all.  Just their new, still mostly unwilling room-mate, who’d been the previous favorite target; a boy whom James was now forever dragging back from the Library just before curfew, even as he brought Lupin in.

Snape had actually found himself indulging in halfway pleasant conversation with the mild-mannered Lupin, who was the “brain” of Gryffindor much as Snape was in Slytherin.  Of the Marauders, Lupin had been the least...offensive...towards him throughout their Hogwarts years.  Snape’s main complaint about the usually sad-eyed boy was his tendency to sit back and just watch, doing nothing to rein his friends in from their worst excesses, even when Lupin knew very well that he should at least _try_.  He was supposed to be an obnoxiously brave Gryffindor, wasn’t he?!  What in Merlin’s name was stopping him?!

When Lupin actually master-minded a prank, it was a lot less likely to be utterly humiliating; not to mention it was guaranteed to be a lot less painful.  _Lupin’s_ idea of a prank had never sent anyone to the Hospital Wing.

The wistful thought crossed Snape’s mind that it was a shame they’d not both been Sorted into Ravenclaw.  It was almost certain they’d have been fast friends within a week, both practically living in the Library...  Potter’s uncharacteristic change of heart might end up granting Severus an actual, real friend other than Lily.

The very idea of owing Potter yet _another_ debt of gratitude curdled Snape’s stomach and soured his disposition even more than usual, putting him off his food for two whole days until he reconciled it with the realization that if it hadn’t been for Potter (and Black) in the first place, he and Lupin might have become fast friends through shared Library time despite their Houses.  It was really only Lupin’s reluctance to lose the questionable friendship of those three prats that had kept him from really sticking up for Snape, or even being overtly friendly with the Slytherin.

It didn’t help anything that Professor McGonagall had quite thoroughly freaked Severus out with her completely out-of-the-blue offer of--of-- What exactly _was_ it that she was offering him, anyway?  A hideaway?  Safe haven?  ...To be his _guardian?_   Severus didn’t know _what_ to make of it--didn’t want to risk trusting what he thought she’d offered.  There’d been enough suppressed laughter about the Gryffindor Head of House to make him suspicious of her motives, though her humor really had seemed to be more aimed at his reaction, than an indication her offer had been some sort of trick.

Professor McGonagall was always so prim and proper, not letting even her lions get away with anything in her classroom, and quick to correct them in the halls when they got out-of-hand in her presence...even if she was rather lacking in enforcing a curfew and study hours in her own House.  He truly didn’t think she had it in her to trick any student so cruelly.  She was _strict_ , not cruel.

Lily, of course, was overjoyed at the mere thought of Professor McGonagall taking her best friend under her wing.  The girl’s exuberant hug when Severus told her of the offer in hopes Lily could help him figure out the Professor’s motivations, didn’t help him think of what to say in answer to her questions--his brain short-circuited with some rather stunning internal fireworks for about five minutes afterwards.  Once Lily had let him go and he’d been able to breathe again, it took the rest of the day for the silly grin to completely fade from his face.  The Marauders were the only ones not completely freaked out by the unexpected expression on the normally sullen boy’s face--and that was including the teaching staff!  Poor Professor Sprout nearly dropped a potted magical snapping-dragon when she caught sight of it, and couldn’t help herself from staring at him every few minutes through the rest of that class.  She nearly lost the thread of her lecture-- _twice!_

The only one not to even notice a difference was Lily.  Then again, she regularly coaxed smiles from Severus, and so never realized how rare they actually were.

Lily obviously thought he should accept McGonagall’s offer; but Severus wasn’t so certain the Professor wouldn’t regret it in short order.  He was under no illusions about how most people thought of him; he _was_ a snarly, snarky, surly, sharp-tongued, anti-social git, with no talent nor inclination towards friendliness and even less patience for the foolishness most of his age-mates indulged in.  McGonagall might consider it The Right Thing To Do, but that didn’t mean she in any way liked, or even vaguely approved of him.  He didn’t know if he’d be able to perpetually hide in whatever room she gave him for the entire holidays; and if she regretted taking him in, she might feel she had no choice but to return him to his father.  Pity was hardly a sturdy enough foundation for a personal bond strong enough to withstand his father’s efforts to destroy it.

After all, he _was_ “just a Slytherin”.  It was...socially acceptable, these days, to write Slytherins off as irreversibly Dark by nature.  It was mainly Slytherins flocking to the budding Dark Lord, wasn’t it?  And besides, Albus Dumbledore thought so; and he was The Most Powerful Wizard in the world!  Who could argue with _him?_

Though Severus was absolutely certain that going with Potter would be _magnitudes_ worse!  Things were hard enough in Gryffindor Tower, when Severus could escape to the Library for extended periods to stay away from James--and especially Sirius!--and where Lily was nearby to remind everyone to behave or be hexed.  Severus had never laid eyes on Potter’s parents; he had no clue what they were really like regarding discipline in general, other than knowing they loved their son enough to spoil him rotten.

Severus also didn’t want Professor McGonagall to have to fend off attacks from his father--be they physical, magical, financial, or to her reputation.  Tobias Snape was capable of all sorts of nastiness when he was thwarted, and Professor McGonagall was one of the very few adults that Severus actually respected, if only for her skill and knowledge in magic.  He didn’t really know her standing in greater Wizarding society, and her financial status had never been any of his business; but he was well aware that the Potters were one of _the_ most wealthy and highly respected families in the Wizarding world-- _they’d_ have no trouble fending off any kind of ill-advised attack from Tobias Snape.

Besides, from his newly-fifteen-year-old viewpoint, Professor McGonagall seemed nearly as ancient as Dumbledore!

Luckily for him, Minerva McGonagall never caught wind of _that_ opinion.  She was only in her late seventies; that was the prime of her life, considering wizard-kind regularly lived well into their second century.  Just look at Albus; one hundred and sixty-some-odd years of age, and still spry as any sixty-year-old!

The young Slytherin was quickly coming to appreciate the Gryffindor Head’s stern demeanor and surprisingly even-handed lack of tolerance for childishness.  From his new perspective living amongst her lions, somewhat of an honorary lion himself, Severus had come to realize that Minerva McGonagall was the one professor who truly did not discriminate against Slytherins in her discipline of students.  It took him a while to consciously notice, but without the constant Marauder Distraction in her class, he could see that she was just as quick to take points from her own as from Slytherin.  And he could see, when they weren’t being taken from him by what felt like the bucket-full, that her points deductions were always earned.

Witnessing her taking points in her own House Common Room for destructive misbehavior was also illuminating.  The two Sixth-years responsible obviously knew it was coming, and weren’t bitter over it--they _had_ completely destroyed two couches and scared the devil out of a half-dozen firsties, after all.  Not that they didn’t try to wheedle out of punishment, but apparently Lily hadn’t told Severus as much as he’d thought about the internal discipline of Gryffindor.  Maybe McGonagall wasn’t quite as lax in watching over her little lion cubs as he’d assumed.

His sullenness about the change in quarters didn’t last long as Severus soaked in all the things about Gryffindors in their natural environment that he’d never before had opportunity to learn.  Their “jump in feet-first, question later” approach to life was actually the same impulse that led Lily to eternally defend him from everyone, no matter what anyone said against him.  A Gryffindor’s loyalty and friendship was impossibly hard to get rid of, once given.

Gryffindors also apologized much quicker than any Slytherin would--when they realized they were in the wrong, anyway.  They just _did_ it, and got it out of the way so friendly relations could resume.  A Slytherin was more likely to wait until there was some sort of advantage to apologizing, even if only by having it witnessed by an impressionable third party.  Most of their apologies were subtle, _understood_ things.  Including the understanding that there would undoubtedly be future need for more apologies.  That was why Severus had always been careful to display exquisite manners as much as possible while at Hogwarts, in an effort to encourage _somebody_ to eventually either be impressed or guilty enough to help him out when the Marauders would persecute him.  It had at least kept most of the rest of the student body from despising him as just a Slytherin version of the Marauders; they’d simply disliked him for his ugly face and unfriendly manner, instead.

And his unfortunate House sorting, of course.

Professor McGonagall helped Severus to further change his view of her by arranging tutoring sessions in Transfiguration with him, on Wednesday nights and Saturday afternoons--after Quidditch, of course.  The woman was an absolute fanatic about the sport!  If a game or practice had been exceptional in some way, she would inevitably be excited enough to try to draw Severus into her love of the sport.  She did manage to engender a solid understanding of the rules of the game in him, out of sheer self-defense on his part; but he just couldn’t do more than pretend to true interest.  His only real interest in the sport was the benefit of having Professor McGonagall taking an active interest in his wellbeing.  He _could_ actually recognize an adult trying to “bond” with him, and appreciated the thought, if not the chosen method.  Which was why he bothered to surreptitiously read a couple of books on Quidditch from the Library, when he thought no one was watching, to try and better understand the athletic insanity.

The second Saturday evening, when the Professor finally cajoled him out onto the Pitch and into a private game of one-on-one Quidditch, was when the Professor learned to her utterly horrified chagrin that Severus Snape had never been taught to _properly_ handle a broom.  He could get from point “A” to point “B” without falling off; but it was a rather shaky, tentative flight--and _walking_ would have been faster!  The boy spent more time trying to look in all directions about himself than he did trying to stay on his broom, for Merlin’s sake!

It was no _wonder_ he’d never developed an interest in Quidditch!  He’d never been taught the skills needed to play, let alone experience the thrill of a good game!

McGonagall promptly appropriated his Sunday afternoons to teach him to “Bond” with the new broom she’d immediately stormed down to Hogsmeade to buy for him, muttering to herself about inexcusable laxity and unforgivable oversights in teaching the whole while he stared after her in bewilderment.  The quality of the broom she brought back for him--not the top of the line, but only because the Quidditch shop had been sold out of Star-Sweep 500s and she simply was _not_ willing to wait two entire _months_ on a special order!--made Snape go pale and shaky for three days.  He had such a look of stunned bewilderment lingering on his face that Lily kept trying to get him to go and see Madam Pomfrey.

No one had _ever_ gotten him such an expensive gift before!  Especially not when there were perfectly adequate school brooms available for him to use!  What in Merlin’s name was the Professor getting out of helping him, to warrant such efforts and expense?!

**_To be continued..._ **

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _**AN:** I don’t know the length of the different holiday vacations in British schools, or even just plain boarding-type schools, and I’m feeling too lazy to research it extensively (I’ve gotta sleep sometime! =] ). So I’m guessing that since the children are away nine months of the year, a single week might be a bit too short for most parents to enjoy having the little rug-rats back._   
> _**Author’s Venting, feel free to skip:** I never, ever want to have to switch types of phone again! ::sweat-drop:: My Palm Treo’s power port died, after warranty of course. I ended up switching companies--and AT&T apparently doesn’t do Palm phones. ::twitch:: I ended up with a Blackberry Curve 8310--that had to be replaced the very next day due to a glitch that stumped the tech help! (Obligatory whinge about not getting the pretty deep red one after all; they only had charcoal grey left...::sniffle!:: ) It took me five days to get the bloody thing configured right--to get Documents To Go on it & search out how to access the bleepin’ directory on my laptop so I can get my files transferred and synching properly, to get a Palm e-book reader loaded and then my e-books (which don’t bloody well sort alphabetically in the phone directory, Merlin hex ‘em!!), I couldn’t find my favorite Meow Mix jingle for a ring tone for Mumsie’s calls and had to go back to the A-Team theme song, etc...AAGH! At least I found a way to get my address book off my Palm and onto the Blackberry; the power held out just long enough._   
> _I **want** one of those I-pads due out this summer!! ::drools at the mere idea:: I figure by February 2011, the first set of bugs should be dealt with enough, and the price should have dropped enough for me to chance one! =]_   
> _**2-5-11 Edit AN:** ::happy dance:: I got a Nook! I got a Nook! ::huggles and snuggles and pets new Baby while crooning to it and ignoring the odd looks from the newer co-workers who aren’t used to me yet:: My elementary bus kids gave me enough gift certificates to hit the Barnes & Noble downtown and splurge, as soon as I researched if my current e-books could be read by it. 546 of my e-books now safely ensconced on the little darling, which takes Palm format and .pdf files quite nicely...including e.pub files, like from fanficdownloader. So, the new phone to replace the intractable Blackberry that just would not bond with me is a simple Pantech flip-phone, and my Nook is almost surgically attached to my hand. _   
> 


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _**AN:** I’m sincerely sorry it’s taken me so long to update, but real life insisted on intruding. This will be finished, but I won’t make any promises as to promptness ‘cause quite frankly, Murphy Law lives in my attic, and we just can’t get him to leave! ::rolls eyes in disgust:: (Murphy’s Law: “Anything that Can go wrong, Will go wrong...”)_   
> 

The first back-to-basics flying lesson went better than either Severus or Professor McGonagall could have dreamed.  With proper instruction and actual _encouragement_ , (not to mention a lack of pranks to send him sailing painfully from his broom every single time it took off and thus hopelessly dividing his attention from learning,) it turned out that Severus Snape was a natural flyer--which Severus was morosely convinced was the _only_ reason he hadn’t broken his neck during Professor Flint’s Gryffindor-Slytherin flying classes, back in his first year.  With Professor McGonagall’s instruction, Severus quickly gained the confidence that was all he’d needed to do well in the air.  He knew there was no way the professor would let anyone sneak up and pull any sort of prank on him during these private lessons, and so he let go of some of his paranoia to concentrate on actually learning.

The safety spells she taught him, both those permanently spelled into the broom at its making and others he could cast himself every time he flew, also helped--sticking charms and anti-vertigo charms and balance and reference charms; but most especially helpful was the ward that would give him a heads-up whenever _any_ magic was being cast on him or his broom while he was in the air.  He wished Professor Flint had explained even some of those, before ever bringing them outside and practically throwing the class onto the school brooms.  Those students like Severus who’d never even _seen_ a broom before coming to Hogwarts, and those who hadn’t even heard of the sport of Quidditch, were too clueless to even suspect permanent safety measures were in place, let alone what they were.  They wouldn’t have been half so scared of their first flight if they’d known there was no chance of them going  < **splatt!** > on the ground.

An appreciation for Quidditch might still remain beyond Severus, but aerial acrobatics were quick to become one of his favorite pastimes--once he gained the confident to try them.  Especially when Lily found out, and started asking him to take her flying of an evening while he practiced his new skills.  _Several_ evenings--like, each and every time he went flying.  On _his_ broom; _with_ him--Lily clinging tightly to his waist as she rode snuggled up behind him, her cheek resting on his back.  (Severus not being quite brave enough to risk Lily riding in front of him, wonderful as the thought might be--fifty feet up in the air was _not_ somewhere to accidentally misplace a hand and get yourself slapped off the broom!  Even if he was suddenly beginning to get the vaguest hint of a feeling that Lily just might actually _not_ slap him.  Or not too hard, anyway.  Which thought killed his concentration and nearly sent him head-first into the ground, right in front of a suddenly panicked Professor McGonagall...no, he most certainly couldn’t afford to allow his thoughts to wander in that direction!)

Hogwarts on the whole was quickly beginning to get used to seeing Severus Snape smiling almost goofily.  He just couldn’t seem to help expressing the feelings bubbling up in him.

Though one “accidentally” overheard flying-rendezvous arrangement did send one James Potter into a desperately-restrained jealous snit-fit, complete with seeming near-convulsions and half-intelligible arguments with himself that almost had Remus dragging _him_ to see Madam Pomfrey.  From then on, the more Snape smiled in public, the more peevish and despondent James got, as he valiantly fought down his jealousy.  It really didn’t help James any that he’d actually started to _like_ the snarky Slytherin as he got to actually know him; that just made him feel extra guilty for being jealous, and resulted in more muttered conversations with himself to scare his Housemates.

Professor McGonagall was heard several times that first week after discovering Snape’s lack of proper broom instruction to be muttering furiously to herself in the corridors of the castle, about the terrible waste to her beloved sport.  She was _absolutely_ convinced that if Severus had received proper instruction and encouragement in his very first flying lesson, he’d have been a Quidditch player to contend with--most likely a Seeker!  Even if her House might have suffered more losses with such talented competition, games played with more closely-matched skill were what the sport was all about!  She’d truly rather Gryffindor lose a closely-contested, well-played game, than win the annual Quidditch Cup against teams whose members were barely able to even stay on their brooms.

She was so scandalized at the perceived harm to her favorite sport--caused at least in part, if not entirely, _by_ _her **own** **HOUSE!!**_ \--that the Marauders spent a great deal of effort in avoiding her at all costs, upon pain of verbal flaying if she caught sight of them outside of class.  Poor Sirius was so dumbfounded at the first of his Head of House’s vehement dressing-downs on the subject, he missed a whole day’s worth of opportunities to prank Slytherin students!  He just could not wrap his mind around her point of view.  If Snape hadn’t looked so perpetually stunned about the whole matter, Sirius would have thought the Slytherin had Confunded McGonagall!

Regulus Black actually stopped avoiding him long enough to ask if he was all right.  Sirius couldn’t even work up a good scathing retort; he’d just stared at his little brother and muttered a vague “Yeah, fine.”  He was too stunned to even speculate, from the wide-eyed look of shock on Reg’s face, that his mother would be getting a panicked letter that evening stating that her eldest son simply must be deathly ill.

Severus found himself a rather amused audience to the incensed Transfiguration Professor’s next meeting of the Hogwarts Flight Instructor.  (The volume of the Head of Gryffindor’s dressing-down only drew half of the school to gawk; the other half ran for the safety of their various Common Rooms--including Professor Slughorn.)  Old Carter Flint caught _the_ full edge of Minerva McGonagall’s razor-edged tongue over the waste of perfectly good talent that the man had almost willfully let slip away, all for mere lack of interest in teaching the boy--or worse yet, lack of control over his own classes!

Severus didn’t know what was creating the strange warmth growing in his chest as he listened to the half-hour harangue--Professor McGonagall’s sticking up for his abilities like that, the gob-smacked looks on the faces of the Gryffindor Quidditch nuts who overheard, or the outright disturbed faces of his Slytherin Housemates as they quickly realized they’d let potentially the best Slytherin Quidditch player in the last three decades slip right through their fingers, without even a thought--and without even _noticing!_   After all, if _McGonagall_ was so vehement--about a _Slytherin’s_ ability!!--he must be truly _exceptional!_

(It was hardly surprising to Severus that a tall, athletic, hawk-faced witch named Rolanda Hooch became Hogwarts’ new Flight Instructor not two months later...especially when he found out she was a retired professional Quidditch player from England’s own team.  Poor old Carter Flint became a nervous wreck and submitted his resignation to Dumbledore immediately after McGonagall had finished with him.  Severus had no doubt whatsoever that the Headmaster had kept his suggestions about replacements strictly to himself, and let his Quidditch-mad Deputy with the razor-barbed tongue have her head; this was _Quidditch,_ after all--and Albus Dumbledore was surely not suicidal enough to cross Minerva McGonagall about something _that_ important!)

Many of the Slytherins who had been giving Severus the cold shoulder since his move to Gryffindor Tower started tentative campaigns to woo him back fully into their House, and all but a handful of his worst Slytherin tormenters sheepishly began trying to get to know him better.  After all, a Slytherin who could garner the fierce protection of the _Gryffindor Head of House_ \--while only a lowly fourth year!--was truly a force to be reckoned with!  And that was never minding how he’d managed to go from the Marauders’ favorite target, to practically their “brother” in practically a single day.  They must somehow have _seriously_ misjudged Severus Snape!  A thorough reevaluation by his whole House was now underway, much to his mixed amusement and vexation.  If nothing else, they simply _had_ to find out how in Merlin’s name he’d done it!

Severus just wished everybody would bloody well leave him _alone._

\--Other than Lily, of course!

The novelty of for the first time ever being sought after for something other than doing a Housemate’s homework, or to be the butt of a nasty prank, might have easily gone straight to his head; except Severus remembered four long years of ostracizion and casual, thoughtless cruelty much too well to believe the good regard would last without a deeper-seated cause, such as James Potter’s epiphany--or to ever mistake it for genuine interest in him as a person.  He was not anywhere near that forgiving, even if it looked like there were several younger-year Slytherins with whom he might now be developing genuine friendships, at least superficially.  He suspected they were more interested in how he could protect them, than in actually befriending him.  Not that he thought there was anything wrong with that, per se; but he wouldn’t ever mistake them for true friends whom he could depend upon for life-and-death situations and through thick or thin, either, as a Gryffindor might do.

It was rather nice to be in popular demand, though.

Severus had to admit, after about a week’s forced close contact with Gryffindors, that he rather preferred their heart-on-the-sleeve approach to life over his own Housemates’ cunningly disguised manipulations.  It took hardly any effort at all to figure out what a Gryffindor was thinking, in general if not specifics; their opinions were never secret even on the rare occasion they actually _tried_ to hide them.  He found he was almost comfortable letting his guard down somewhat with them.  He could never dare think of relaxing that way around any Slytherin!

Which lead to the Great Gryffindor Discovery of the Year--Severus Snape Had A Sense Of Humor!  Snarky and cynical as could be; but if you were paying attention, it was right there, laughing at everybody--including himself.  It just took a bit of thought to notice the satire and sarcasm he used instead of the blunt, usually downright crude humor of most of the other students, even many Slytherins.  The uninitiated could take up to five minutes to figure out the humor in what at first hearing sounded like not-so-simple insults--especially since Severus usually didn’t immediately snicker at his own jokes.  There was a strange outbreak of seemingly random bursts of snickering and snorted laughter around Hogwarts as students would remember something Severus said at some point in the past in a different light, and suddenly see the humor in it.  It became something of a challenge for the Gryffindors, at least, to find the humor in the snark.

Luckily, the reaction time between Severus’ words and their laughter became shorter as they started anticipating his quirky humor, or the teaching staff might have begun looking for a prankster casting random laughing hexes.

This dumbfounding realization of Snape’s odd sense of humor then led many Gryffindors to suddenly realize that the notorious Snape Sneer _wasn’t_ the single expression they’d always believed it to be!  Rather, there were different flavors of sneer; depending on his shockingly _changing_ mood--and some of them were actually his version of a _smile_.  Those so suddenly-enlightened blamed the lateness of this discovery on his overly large beak of a nose that was somewhat difficult to ignore, along with the constant wariness the Marauders had engendered in Snape with their non-stop prank war.  He had to loosen up at least a little before the differences were noticeable.

The most common Sneer was, of course, the one they all understood--the exasperated, long-suffering one with the rolling eyes that came when someone was being exceptionally stupid and/or getting into easily avoidable trouble.  The Smirk-sneer was the first difference they noticed; he wore this on occasions when other people would give an evil grin--his black eyes would not roll, but would subtly light up instead, seeming more intense in their stare; and the corners of his mouth would go higher than with any other sneer.  Then there was the sneer he got in place of a normal person’s pained grimace; it was differentiated by a certain crinkling about the slightly narrowed eyes, and a subtle flinching back of his head-- _almost_ a wince.

His self-deprecating sneer came with an air of bleak humor expressed mostly by lowered eyelids and a partially raised left eyebrow.  Not the _right_ eyebrow, mind; just the left.  The _right_ eyebrow only rose with the mocking, almost vicious sneer he gave those he considered enemies when they’d just made complete fools of themselves, without any help from anyone else.  Naturally, Sirius Black was the second most likely target for this sneer.

Remus was more than surprised to notice that none other than seventh-year Slytherin Lucius Malfoy was _the_ single most likely recipient for Snape’s most scornful expressions--so long as the older boy couldn’t see it.  His curiosity was piqued enough to try to find out why.  Direct questions got Remus snarled at, both by Severus and the few Slytherins he dared to ask about Malfoy--those that didn’t all but run away in fear at his questioning, that is.  Perhaps “What’s up with Malfoy, anyway?” was a bit too blunt...

When Snape caught Remus asking around about Malfoy, the suddenly distressed Gryffindor was almost forced to physically restrain the Slytherin from actually hitting his head repeatedly against the nearest stone wall while muttering darkly to himself about dunderheaded Gryffindors with death wishes and no consideration for the safety and well-being of others.  Snape refused to enlighten Remus as to the reason for this reaction, instead rather harshly insisting the sandy-haired boy just stay away from even _thinking_ any questions about Lucius Bloody Malfoy.

The grim, almost frightened set to Snape’s features convinced Remus to back off, at least for a while.  Anything that could make _Severus Snape_ afraid wasn’t likely something Remus would want to jump in the middle of, especially not without backup.  Because the more Remus found out about the Slytherin, the more he believed the boy really _should_ have been in Gryffindor; Snape was braver than anybody else Remus knew!  Gryffindors tended to never stop and think about consequences, to themselves _or_ to others, before jumping in loudly and head-first; they didn’t give themselves time to become afraid until afterwards.  Snape, on the other hand, didn’t jump into things blindly.  Snape _knew_ exactly what could happen, pain and all, and faced his own fear down to go ahead and do what he had to in spite of it.

Remus was growing to admire the Slytherin boy more and more, the longer he was around him.  Which made him feel more and more guilty for the past four years of _his_ behavior...

It didn’t help Remus’ conscience any when Snape would somewhat awkwardly try to cheer Remus up, when the Gryffindor started showing signs of depression.  It was sometimes all Remus could do not to burst into tears from the weight of his feeling of guilt.  How could Snape even want to be nice to him, after everything the Marauders had done to him?!

Luckily for Snape’s peace of mind, Remus managed to somewhat restrict his bouts of moroseness to no more than an average of an hour a day.  Never having been a particularly social animal, voluntarily interacting with only Lily as he had done, Snape had no clue what was wrong with Remus, let alone how to help--or even why in Merlin’s name he felt the need to try!  Snape was also afraid it might have something to do with the faint scars criss-crossing the other boy’s face, that he knew nothing about.  If Remus had childhood trauma anything like Snape’s, he _would_ need help at some point--hopefully it wasn’t as extreme as what Snape was trying to cope with!--but Snape respected other people’s privacy the way he expected them to respect his.  That meant he did not pry into something personal that was really none of his business, and _definitely_ not where he was not invited.

Snape managed a couple clumsy-feeling offers to listen if Remus wanted to talk, and hoped to Merlin he wouldn’t end up having to talk to Potter about the matter.  He had a definite feeling Potter knew this secret of Remus’; Sirius and Peter also.  He’d seen the three trading significant Looks (that they probably thought were subtle; _Gryffindors!!_ ) whenever they caught Remus acting depressed, before they determinedly tried to cheer him up, or at least distract him.  Snape wouldn’t interfere unless it looked obvious Remus might be going to...hurt himself, somehow.  It wasn’t like he had a clue of how to help...

The tentative truce Snape and the Marauders had undertaken had put them all off-balance.  They had to completely re-learn how to deal with each other.  Luckily, it didn’t take most of the Marauders long to realize just how little they knew about Snape, and he about them; so they were able to sort of start over from scratch.  Sirius was the only hold-out, but so long as he at least _tried_ to behave himself, (all four of the others knew that his actually doing that for any length of time would be asking for the impossible!) James would simply make sure he didn’t do anything too horrible.  Some little things _would_ slip by James, no matter how hard he tried--Sirius was nothing if not stubbornly determined!--but James made Sirius fix those things as soon as they happened, one way or another.  Things like the disturbingly fire-engine-red color charm on Snape’s hair; the disappearing ink substituted into Snape’s inkwell; the charm to make whatever Snape sat on give out rather loud and disturbing flatulent noises; the rooster crow charm on Snape’s bed that sounded whenever he lay down on it...  James had to threaten to team up with Snape and Remus to prank Sirius back, if he didn’t lay off.  Even Peter wasn’t very amused with the bed-charm; Snape hadn’t been able to resist being a “restless sleeper” that night, setting the sound off at least once every fifteen minutes the _entire_ night long.  The most timid of the Marauders had actually dumped a conjured bucket of cold water on Sirius an hour before anybody had to get up, he was so fed up with the racket.

Snape was so amused at the antics of James and Remus both in trying to head off their impulsive friend, he really didn’t bother trying to get even with Sirius on his own.  It helped that these little pranks were nothing like as bad as what he’d put up with for four years; for one, they _didn’t_ send him to the Hospital Wing.  He figured no pain equaled no retribution...at least for the time being.  The others were beginning to be creative enough on their own with ideas to stop him.

Though if Sirius didn’t lay off on pranking his homework, Snape just might have to get active in “convincing” him to stop.  Thankfully Snape was ahead in his work, as usual, and so had a chance to re-do the ruined essays before the deadline to turn them in.  It helped tremendously to actually understand the material you’re writing about.

Several Gryffindors, led not unpredictably by James and Remus, became fascinated with cataloging Snape’s Different Sneers.  Sirius thought it a phenomenal waste of time and ignored their animated discussions in disgust, while Peter was still too nervous about the thought of Snape hexing him to voluntarily get near enough to even see the slight variations in his expression.

James and Remus began trading humorous spectator’s comments on Snape’s expressions, including a sports-like bestowing of points; a relatively “gentle” form of friendly teasing that Severus had never experienced before.  Remus, sensitive enough to be quick to notice the pained storm of misunderstanding gathering behind those black eyes, took care to explain it to Severus one night while they were in the Library. Quick reinforcement from Lily and subsequent careful observation finally convinced Severus that Remus wasn’t just having him on; it really was only well-meant “friendly teasing”.  It made him terribly self-conscious at first, but he did his best to ignore it.

The fact that Lily smiled brightly at him each time he successfully restrained himself helped a great deal, of course.  As did the occasional proud hug she would surprise him with.

Severus was completely bewildered by the Gryffindor propensity to poke fun at one another.  Slytherins were much more reserved--and much more sensitive to, and thus vicious in retaliation of, perceived insults.  He grimly devoted time each day to learning how to _not_ hex someone for this (supposedly) “friendly teasing,” developing a habit of looking to Remus when something confusing had been said before jumping to conclusions.

After a couple days, Severus and Remus had gone from the verbal “What the hell does _that_ mean?!” with a rolled-eye response of “Ignore them, they’re just being idiots; they don’t mean anything by it,” to a flat-eyed black stare with slightly raised eyebrows that got various combinations of rolled eyes, humorously pained winces and grimaces, exaggerated sighs of long-suffering, and/or a sadly shaken head, with or without a stifled grin and/or arms akimbo.  Snape quickly became adept at deciphering the increasingly vague body language and so knew at a glance when he was to ignore, laugh off, or respond in kind to the verbal pokes--as opposed to hexing the speaker into next week.

Which happened one time, only, with a seventh-year Gryffindor; but _Remus_ was the one who growled and did the hexing, rather than let Severus do it.  Snape was left standing there with a rather bewildered expression at this still unexpected defense.  Having the notoriously gentle, shy, easy-going _Remus Lupin_ hex an older Housemate with boils that took Madam Pomfrey two whole _days_ to fix, _definitely_ got the message across to the rest of Gryffindor that Severus Snape should no longer be considered an appropriate target!

Of course, Madam Pomfrey didn’t exactly put forth full effort in curing the annoying seventh-year prat...but she was the only one who knew of her lack of professional thoroughness.

The physical side-effects of the Unforgivable curses Tobias Snape had cast on his son took three entire weeks to fade beyond the ability of even the most perceptive people to notice them, though the bone-deep ache lingered enough to impede his sleep for most of another month.  There were several reasons that curse was considered an Unforgivable, besides the lack of an effective defense against it; not least being the way the damage it caused seemed immune to magical healing, and was cumulative over time.  The more you were cursed, the longer it took to recover...  Madam Pomfrey made sure he had potions to take every night before bed, to help at least somewhat with the after-effects.

Remus was the only student to pay attention to how Snape’s temper improved as his tremors lessened; or to even notice them as more than some sort of random, nervous muscle twitches in the first place--let alone recognize the muscle-relaxant and rather strong painkilling potions the boy surreptitiously downed every night before bed.  From hard experience with the physical side-effects of his own curse, Lupin’s respect for the Slytherin grew even more when he realized Snape hadn’t complained of being in discomfort even once.  With _that_ level of painkiller from Madame Pomfrey, he had to be in a considerable amount of serious and constant pain!

At first, the careful consideration Remus started to show Severus was taken wrongly as pity, and Remus had to bite his tongue to keep from saying something regrettable at the Slytherin’s angry snarling and snapping.  Finally, one day in the Library while studying with Severus and Lily, a week after Snape was moved into Gryffindor, Remus lost some of his normal tight control over his temper.  He later blamed it on the nearness of the full moon, and his monthly “affliction”, ignoring the fact that this was the second time in week he’d lost his temper--both times involving Severus.

“Damnit, Severus, it won’t kill you to accept a little help now and then, even if you really don’t need it!  It’s not pity--it’s respect!”

Remus had only offered to go and grab a fresh stack of blank parchment for Severus from Madam Pince, trying to save the boy a few steps in respect for the pain Remus knew he was in; he hadn’t at all meant to imply the idiot wasn’t able to walk across the room on his own!  That too-sharp tongue could _really_ get under a body’s skin with constant exposure.  Severus needed to learn to control his temper almost as much as Sirius did!

Face set in an uncharacteristic scowl, Remus let out an exasperated huff.  Tossing down his quill he sent his chair skittering precariously back with his legs as he stood up, fists on hips.  He glared across the table at a just-risen Severus who was scowling back at him, obviously just getting wound up himself and spoiling for a fight.  Some days, Severus was so much like Sirius that Remus didn’t wonder at all why those two never got on!

Feeling a bit desperate to get his point across before the yelling started and got them all tossed out of the Library, Remus wracked his brain for an example to use.  His eyes fell on Lily, staring wide-eyed in surprise at each of them from her seat beside the seething Severus.  He waved a hand towards her and stared intently into Severus’ stormy eyes.  “You’d go out of your way to do things for Lily, if you knew her to be in pain; but you wouldn’t pity her for it, would you!  You’d just want to make things easier for her, until she felt better.  This is the same thing; it’s a _courtesy!_   I happen to _like_ you, you annoying prat!  I’d _like_ to think we’ve become friends, now, at least a little bit.  And friends help each other, even without being asked first!”

Snapping amber eyes glared directly into wide, startled obsidian as Remus found himself nose-to-nose with a shrinking Severus, who had backed a couple paces until he’d almost bumped into Lily.  Remus couldn’t even remember how he’d got around the table.  The tense Slytherin’s mouth was gaping open as he stared at Remus, half-way flinching as if he expected to be hit at any moment.

Remus hurriedly backed off in dismay, his eyes returning to their normal soft brown as he threw an anguished glance at Lily, turned, and fled.  He didn’t even pause to gather up his own books from the table where they’d all been studying so calmly, just minutes ago.

Severus stared after him, mouth still open in shock.  He’d never, ever thought the quiet Gryffindor bookworm could lose his temper like that!  Remus had been downright _scary!_ How’d he change his eyes to amber like that, anyway?!

Sighing, he relaxed a bit and let his eyes slide sideways to Lily, who was also staring dumbfounded after Remus.  He scowled.  He _knew_ what she was going to say, any minute now...he was going to have to chase after the annoying Gryffindor, and apologize.

It wasn’t like he’d meant to offend the too-sensitive boy; he’d just--he wanted Remus to quit trying to _baby_ him all the time!  Opening doors for him, chasing people out of his way while walking through the halls, trying to carry everything for him; for Merlin’s sake, Remus had been pestering him about his _eating_ habits--actually dumping food onto his plate, right there in the Great Hall in front of the whole school!  Remus was treating him like he was made of spun glass, like to break at any moment--or like he was a two-year-old!  “Exasperated” didn’t even _begin_ to cover how Severus felt about all that.

After four years of almost constant abuse by Remus’ best mates, with Remus’ role being the observer who wouldn’t lift a finger to stop things he _knew_ were wrong, this sudden mother-hen impression brought up an anger in Severus that was deep enough to drown in.  If the fool thought he was so damned fragile, then _why_ in Merlin’s name had Remus gone along with Potter and Black in their constant bullying and pranking and abuse, that often sent Severus to the Hospital Wing?!!  Most of the things they’d done had been damned painful to more than just his pride!

Picking on someone you supposedly thought of as weak was just despicable--especially at four-to-one odds!

If it was just Remus’ guilty conscience prompting this behavior, Severus wanted no part of it.  Inexperienced with having friends as he was, even Severus knew _that_ wasn’t a basis for any kind of true friendship.  His scowl went black as his thoughts spun down old paths.

“Sev...”

Severus winced at Lily’s soft voice.  He held one hand palm-out as if to fend her off as his head dropped, hiding his face behind lank black hair.  With a long-suffering sigh and drooping shoulders he muttered, “I know, I know...I’ll chase the idiot down and straighten this out...”

Emerald green eyes stared reproachfully up at him as Lily frowned.  “’Straighten this out’...?”

He hurriedly added, “I’ll apologize, I will!  But he’s _got_ to stop treating me like I’m a baby!”  He couldn’t help but glare at Lily in exasperation, albeit mildly.  He never could work up a proper glare towards Lily.

She heard the real anger buried in her best friend’s conciliatory tone, and knew he was right, even if he was being a bit too touchy about it.  She grinned briefly; if Remus tried treating _her_ like he’d been treating Sev, she’d probably haul off and slug him one, and never mind using magic!  Sev just wasn’t used to anybody but her treating him with normal consideration, let alone dealing with Remus’ mothering.  Even _she_ couldn’t get away with too much coddling of Sev, at least not without risking hurting his pride.

Oh, Sev would let her _do_ pretty much anything she wanted for, or even _to_ him; but the hurt would be there, in those deep black eyes, whenever he believed it meant she thought less of him.  So she always tried to restrain herself until he _asked_ for help--by word, or deed, or just that _tiny_ little change in expression that was sometimes all he could manage to fight himself into using.

Lily had never had a problem deciphering the Snape Sneers.  The Lily Smile turned them into silly grins every time, anyway.

Smiling up at Sev, Lily nodded and made a shooing gesture.  “Go on, see if you can catch him--I’ll get your things back to the Tower for you.”

He hesitated, glanced the way Remus had fled, then down at his books spread out across the table--then at the fair-sized stack Remus had abandoned.  He gave her a sideways look for a moment, balancing his knowledge of Lily’s stubbornness and abilities versus three substantial sets of books, crossed with the prohibition against students doing magic in the halls.  A sigh in answer to a bright green glare, a quick gathering of books and supplies, and the whole doubled stack was gently settled on the table at her elbow, as Severus stalked purposefully away.  He’d noticed three older Gryffindors in the Library; if Lily needed help, she could easily dragoon one or more of them into playing pack-mule for her.

Her smile became a full-blown grin as Lily watched him go.  She knew Sev would straighten things out with Remus.  Without James and Sirius keeping them at odds, those two boys had too much in common not to become good friends--especially now that Sev’s own horrible secret was out, his awful father.  She made a mental note to question Sev about his recovery the next day; if Remus was noticing him being in pain, probably in their now shared dorm, she wanted to be sure Madam Pomfrey was aware of it.

Hmmm...maybe Remus would eventually share with Sev the secret that had been eating at _him,_ ever since they first came to Hogwarts.

Lily sighed, knowing she’d get no more productive studying done that evening.  She gathered up her things along with Sev’s and Remus’, and started trudging back to Gryffindor Tower, barely able to see around the huge stack of books straining her arms.  Various Gryffindors she passed eyed her nervously, but she was too preoccupied to even think to draft any helpers.

Lily didn’t know what Remus’ problem was, but she suspected the other three Marauders did...so it would likely be only a short time before Sev found out, one way or another.  Sev was too smart, and the other boys to obvious, for it to remain a secret for much longer.  Hopefully Remus would just come out and tell Sev.  Then her problem would be restraining herself from pestering Sev to tell her!  No matter how curious she was, she knew it was none of her business, unless Remus chose to tell her.

She still hadn’t quite figured out how to convince Remus that he wanted to tell her.

Darn it!

Shaking her head and laughing at herself, Lily marched on, narrowly avoiding running into anyone.  Halfway back to the Tower her arms started aching, and she finally did draft a slow-to-duck Gryffindor sixth-year to play pack-mule and carry the heaviest books for her.

Severus, meanwhile, was trying to figure out just where an upset Remus Lupin would go, to hide.  Gryffindor Tower was out--that was too obvious even for Peter to do.  They’d just left the Library; Remus surely wouldn’t double back there until the next day, as normally Severus and Lily would be just as likely staying there until Madam Pince threw them out at closing, unless James came to drag them back to the Tower first.  Remus couldn’t be certain if either one or both of them would even be chasing after him, though he’d obviously not want them to find him any sooner than necessary.  Severus was betting Remus was simply planning on avoiding him and Lily until his embarrassment eased, though how he was planning on avoiding their now-shared dorm room after curfew...

The sudden, full realization of exactly what Remus had _said_ suddenly froze Severus in his tracks.

Remus--thought of Severus, as a _friend?_   A--a _real_ friend?

Wide-eyed and stunned, Severus barely noticed the offended Ravenclaw seventh-year who’d nearly run into him at his abrupt stop, who glared and huffed out her indignation as she stepped around him.  He slowly glanced unseeing about himself, trying to figure out how in Merlin’s name the Gryffindor boy had come to think of _him_ in that way.  They’d been basically enemies since their first day at Hogwarts!  Severus had only ever _had_ one friend in his whole life, and that was Lily!

Granted, since Severus found himself living in Gryffindor Tower, the unexpected truce between he and the Marauders had actually let them start to really get to know each other, as they would have if Severus hadn’t argued the Sorting Hat out of its first choice for him...but was biting his tongue on his more acidic insults and refraining from hexing them on a regular basis, really enough to qualify him for Remus’ actual friendship?

Come to think of it, Remus was usually the first right along with Lily to appreciate the humor hidden in the Slytherin’s more snarky and sarcastic comments; and to notice the sneaky compliments laced within so-called insults.  Remus wasn’t usually terribly assertive, but his wit was certainly quick enough.  Severus had to admit, he had come to...value...their time together, in a way similar to how he had always valued time with Lily, though nowhere near as strongly.

Maybe...he _did_ now have a second honest-to-Merlin friend!

Gulping, Severus ran a shaky hand through his hair before once more wandering off to see if he could track down Remus, looking rather dazed as he all but staggered away.  It was possible he’d walk right by the Gryffindor without even seeing him--he certainly wasn’t seeing any of the other students he was passing by.

 _Oh, Merlin’s pants--!_   Severus shivered, horrified to suddenly realize that he no longer even really minded being in the same room as _James Bloody Potter!_   They’d even sometimes been using each others’ first names instead of their surnames when they spoke!

It must be a sign of the Apocalypse; the world would be ending by the weekend!

No, wait-- _that_ would be when Black finally learned to keep a civil tongue in his head, and his too-quick wand pointed _away_ from Severus.  A day didn’t go by that the idiot didn’t try _some_ thing.  Granted, Black _was_ behaving better than Severus could have possibly expected of him.  Which wasn’t really saying much, all things considered...

Hm.  Then again, maybe it was more than Severus had first thought.  Black _hadn’t_ managed to send him to the Hospital Wing since The Move, and Severus couldn’t help but notice that it looked like the Gryffindor prat hadn’t really been trying to.

It was probably just as well that it took a good four hours of searching for Severus to track down Remus where he was hiding, in an unused classroom not far from McGonagall’s.  Not only did it give Remus time to settle himself and think of something apologetic to say to Severus, but the Slytherin was able to at least start to get his head wrapped around the novel idea of having more than one real friend--and to talk himself around to apologizing to Remus for blowing up at him.  A subtle apology, of course; he _was_ a Slytherin.  Even if he was immersed up to his ears in Gryffindors lately!

Upon seeing the sandy-haired young man slouched at a desk up near the front of the classroom--his back to the door, for shame!!--Severus blew out an exasperated sigh.  He closed the door behind him and walked over to sit behind Remus, who appeared too lost in thought to have noticed him, though Severus wasn’t especially trying to be any more quiet than normal.

After a few moments of silence, Severus casually spoke up.  “So.  Should I accept Professor McGonagall’s offer over Potter’s?”

The Slytherin had to work to suppress a highly amused smirk when Remus jumped _so_ amusingly, nearly falling from his chair as he twisted around at the obviously unexpected voice.

“Severus!  Don’t _do_ that!!”

The corners of his lips twitching upwards in spite of his effort at self-control, Severus raised his eyebrows and stared back at the panting Gryffindor, who had one hand clutched over his heart to still its suddenly too-hard pounding.  In the most innocent voice he could manage, Severus asked, “Do what?”

Remus gave him a flat-eyed stare full of exasperation.  The smirk escaped a bit more, Severus’ black eyes starting to sparkle with mirth as his eyebrows came back down; a rare expression which killed any bad feeling over the scare.  Remus did realize it was at least partly his own fault for his inattention, anyway.  He huffed out a sigh.

Severus sobered quickly, still more than a bit nervous at having let his walls down enough to try and joke with Remus as he did with Lily.  The process of Bonding to a new friend was new to him; he’d only ever done it the once!  “Well?  What do you advise?”  He had come to trust Remus’ opinion of other people, and McGonagall _had_ been the boy’s Head of House, _in loco parentis_ to him for almost four years now.  He was bound to know her better than any Slytherin, no matter how perceptive.  Severus was willing to admit, if only to himself, that he’d become quite biased against Gryffindors in general, thanks to the Marauders.

Blinking as he tried to remember just what Severus had asked him, Remus ran a hand through his hair, unintentionally making part of his fringe stick up oddly.  He was distracted when Severus tsked disapprovingly at him, leaned over his desk and casually reached one hand out to fix it, in a somewhat rough yet almost motherly way.

Severus snorted at the shocked stare he got for his trouble, rolling his eyes briefly.  He blandly explained, “Potter looks enough like a haystack for all of you; there’s no need to emulate him.  Now are you going to answer my question, or just stare at me until curfew?”  He settled more comfortably in his seat, draping one arm over the back and stretching out his long legs, the other hand resting on the desk top with one thumb hooked under the edge.  Realizing Remus had probably completely forgotten the question, he added testily, “About my going with McGonagall or Potter over the holidays...?”

Remus drew in a deep breath, thinking.  He hadn’t expected Severus to ask him for advice about this, though he was already definite in his opinion.  First things first, though--“I’m sorry, Severus.”

Black eyes blinked in surprise for a moment as the Slytherin tried to parse the meaning behind that.

“For blowing up at you?  That was uncalled for on my part.”  Remus looked down, flushing a bit with shame as he tried to elaborate.  “I just--“

“--Finally lost your temper with the stubborn idiot who couldn’t figure out you were just trying to be friends with him.”  The only sign that Severus was nervous about interrupting with such a bald, Gryffindor-style statement was the way the knuckles of the hand gripping the edge of the desk had whitened as the tips tried to dig into the wood.

Remus sensed Lily’s influence, and felt one corner of his mouth slide upwards in amusement.  It wasn’t _exactly_ an apology for all the snarking and snapping, but he now knew Severus well enough that he could tell the sentiment was there--and that was the important part.  “...Yeah, I guess so.”  He frowned thoughtfully for a moment, staring at the desktop before raising his eyes to Severus’.  “I think you should accept Professor McGonagall’s offer.  She’s a powerful witch, who can certainly protect you from your father just as well as the Potters could; she’s thick-skinned enough to not take snarky comments from a teenager personally, though I really wouldn’t advise _trying_ to tick her off; and,” Remus suddenly grinned outright, “I doubt even the Headmaster could change her mind once it’s made up to do something.”

That got another snort in reaction.  Severus had noticed that Professor McGonagall and Madam Pomfrey had a lot in common--he didn’t think Dumbledore could order either one of those formidable witches about, if they decided they didn’t want to listen to him.  As Remus’ take on matters matched his own, Severus nodded firmly, straightening in his seat before standing up.  He looked down at Remus.

“Are you coming?”

Remus hastily stood as well, and followed his new friend from the classroom and back to the Tower.

Lily would probably have thrown a fit that they hadn’t apologized properly at all, but the boys were both satisfied that they were good again.  That was good enough for them, and it was _their_ budding friendship at stake, anyway.

Besides, what Lily didn’t know wouldn’t hurt them.

 

**_To be continued..._ **

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _**AN:** I’ve no idea who Rolanda Hooch’s predecessor was, or when she came to Hogwarts. Carter Flint is my own creation._   
>  _Ye gads. Those of you enjoying this will probably be happy to know, I just realized I’m not even halfway through this thing yet! I’m over the forty-thousand word mark--with half of that still in outline form...! ::sweat-drop::_   
>  _Usually, stories claw their way out of my subconscious mostly-formed, chapter by chapter. Whenever I try to outline a story, whole scenes will just pour out of my fingers through the keyboard onto the screen, and they flow so nicely I just can’t stop them. Sometimes there will be a “hole” the size of a chapter or so in the middle that I have to backtrack and fill, or two different story roughs will decide to get married and birth a whole new plotline. This story, after the first chapter formed, actually cooperated by letting me rough out an outline for the next dozen or so chapters before the fleshing out process started. Of course, it is a rather detailed outline...and mutating constantly, of course. =] It’s kind of nice to have the outline before the story’s done, for a change. Odd, but nice!_   
>  _The problem, of course, is finding the time to write it..._   
> 


	8. Chapter 8

Severus informed Professor McGonagall of his decision after his next Transfiguration class on the following day.  Her satisfied smile made him somewhat nervous, like as it seemed to the look of a cat who’d lapped up all the cream in the house; but he couldn’t for the life of him figure out just what she would be getting out of this arrangement, besides an annoying underage houseguest to be continually watched over.  He didn’t doubt the Professor had house-elves to care properly for her home and property, not to mention her formidable magic, and so had no need of manual labor from a student; and he scoffed at the mere hint of the idea of such a notable witch of the Light wanting to use him in any Dark Magic workings.  Granted, he might end up spending the holiday Transfigured into a lamp, or something...but she’d undoubtedly return him to Hogwarts in exactly the condition that he’d left it, unlike his father.  All he’d lose as a lamp would be a bit of time, as the books all agreed that subjects of Human Transfiguration (which they wouldn’t even begin to study the theory of until the next year) didn’t retain any memory of the experience.  He hoped they were right.

At least, being a teacher, she’d most certainly let him finish any homework he might have; especially if he started in on it right away.

...Then again, he might somehow manage to unintentionally, _royally_ tick her off _so_ badly that she hexed him back to Hogwarts early.  With his father out for his blood, it _was_ at least vaguely possible that Severus could be taken from the school during the break, if the man should discover he was physically there.  Blood did matter, in legalities as much as in magic-- _if_ you knew almost exactly where a person was.  Tobias would hardly expect his quite disagreeable and unpopular son to be safely hidden away behind strong wards at a Professor’s own home, and there wouldn’t be enough time over the two week break for him to track Severus down once he realized the Headmaster wasn’t about to point him straight to the boy.

Severus had no doubts about whether Dumbledore would give away his Deputy Head’s home address.  Minerva McGonagall would indisputably be wearing her ancestral plaid and that rather terrifying blue body paint of her ancestors in a trice, and have the Headmaster’s head on a pike while dancing a wildly enthusiastic jig over his quivering remains, if he dared betray her like that--possibly literally!  They didn’t name her venerated ancestors “Bloodthirsty Scots” in jest, after all.

Severus _planned_ on being on his best behavior; using the full courtesies at all times, and pretty much hiding in whatever room she assigned him as much as it was possible to do without causing offence.  That didn’t mean he wouldn’t accidentally discover some action or behavior in himself that she just plain could _not_ tolerate...

After all, his own _father_ could barely tolerate him.

Even his mother hadn’t quite cared enough to try to get him away from his father’s abuse.  She’d taken a full ten years to finally take any action, and even then it was something that she should’ve bloody well known was the _wrong_ thing to do.  If she would have taken her son and run back to her parents at the first Dark curse Tobias used on Severus, _that_ would have been practical, and likely to actually work.  Disowned or not, Eileen and her son would have been protected from Tobias’ abuse, at the very least--her parents had been more powerful than Tobias in all ways, being purebloods of the ancient and venerable House of Prince, and would have savored the chance to rid her of her too-Dark husband.

Was the embarrassment of hearing frequent and snide “I told you so”s really _so_ much worse than watching your own son be more and more badly abused; both physically, and emotionally?  Had he truly been worth so little to her...?

It was no wonder Severus Snape wasn’t exactly known for his cheerful demeanor.

Eileen Snape née Prince had waited until two years after her parents had died to do anything about her abusive husband, and then she never once thought to contact an Auror--or anyone else who might have done something to constructively help her and her son.  Severus wasn’t certain if his mother had been too ashamed to admit to her mistake in marriage, or too proud or scared to ask for help...and as she was dead and he was not, not yet anyway, it couldn’t really matter to him anymore.  If he lived to graduate Hogwarts, he might then allow himself the luxury of wondering about his mother’s motivations.

He refused to entertain the idea that Professor McGonagall could possibly be cruel enough to send him on to his father, no matter how badly he got on her nerves.  It was bad enough that just the thought of the long summer holiday kept bleeding into his nightmares, waking him just short of a scream in the middle of the night.  He refused to think about being handed over to his father before then.

Thank Merlin he’d come up with that extra-strong silencing charm, _Muffliato,_ or he’d soon be waking everyone within a half mile of him with screaming!  He shuddered with mortification at the thought.  He did have _some_ pride left!

Professor McGonagall told Severus to pack his trunk like always on leaving-day, but instead of heading outside to the carriages with the other departing students, he’d wait for her in the Great Hall.  The Professor would then walk him to the boundary of Hogwarts’ wards, from where she’d Side-Along Apparate the two of them to her home.  A nice, brisk walk was much more to her preference than stepping through an ashy Floo, especially when there was no need to rush.  She was not behind in her preparations to leave the castle for the break, and if the Headmaster needed her for anything, she was only an owl or a Floo-call away.  The bit of marking she would have to do after that last day of classes could just as easily be done at her home, and she was somewhat anxious to get her houseguest settled in as soon as possible.

She doubted the boy had truly registered that this would not be a one-time visit; that she was determined that he would _not_ be going back to that abominable-- _so-called_ **man _!!_** _\--_ ever again.

Truth be told, Minerva McGonagall was rather looking forward to having Tobias Snape set foot upon her property.  She was certain Albus would assist her in cleaning up the... _mess._  Especially as she’d managed to get an admission from the old coot that he _was_ working behind the scenes, as it were, to arrange for young Mr. Snape’s liberation.  Minerva planned on worming explicit details out of the Headmaster upon her return to Hogwarts.  She’d already informed Albus in no uncertain terms that he’d better be using _her_ name for anything even vaguely relating to guardianship of the boy.

Severus knew that if he took his time and trailed behind all the other students, no one would even question him about where he was going.  The only people he wanted knowing anything about his business already knew as much as he did, and they’d be the only ones who would even consider bothering to look for him on the Hogwarts Express, anyway.

Having never Apparated before, even in tandem, Severus was understandably just a _little_ bit nervous.  He had always Flooed to the Leaky Cauldron to get to Diagon Alley for his school supplies, and really hadn’t been far enough away from his home for anything else to need any other method than his own two feet.  His father hadn’t wanted to be publicly seen with Severus unless absolutely necessary, and his mother had been too timid to leave their home herself without Tobias forcing her to.

It was not that he thought Professor McGonagall would actually splinch them--she was much too experienced and powerful a witch to do something like that.  He simply didn’t want to throw up all over her shoes, or fall flat on his face, or have some other horribly embarrassing thing happen!

Lily had enthusiastically arranged an actual schedule for them to owl letters to each other, including Remus in the planned correspondence.  Her parents had given her a tawny owl at the start of their third year, and they would all three use it to keep in touch with each other, as neither of the boys had an owl of their own.  Severus was amused at her high-handed, dictatorial style, and shared a humorous look of long-suffering with Remus (that the boys were _very, very_ careful she did not see!) before solemnly swearing to faithfully adhere to Lily’s strict letter schedule.  Though snickers did nearly break free when she actually handed them each a piece of parchment with the schedule written out--in colored inks.  Severus barely contained a roll of his eyes that would probably have earned him a hex.

He understood what she was doing; really, he _did_ , in spite of his amusement.  This would be Severus and Lily’s first time being completely apart, without any way to sneak off to see each other even for just a few minutes, since they first became friends.  Severus couldn’t blame Lily for being nervous, especially when he was more than a bit skittish over the whole thing himself.  It was the faint twinge of more than mere indigestion shooting through his chest at the thought of not seeing _Remus Lupin_ until they came back to Hogwarts that had Severus more grouchy and short-tempered than usual, even for him.  He’d never actually _missed_ anyone before, except for the times he and Lily had to delay meeting each other by a day or two!

He’d never in his wildest nightmares thought he’d ever miss a _Marauder!_

Not that the feeling was in any way near as strong as the actual pain that stabbed at his heart with the mere thought of not seeing his Lily for _two..._

_Whole..._

_Weeks..._

Oh, Merlin help him!  Severus felt almost physically ill at that thought, and seriously considered a trip to Madam Pomfrey for a potion.  Potions prodigy he might be, but some ingredients were expensive--and Madam Pomfrey was perfectly willing to dose him from her stock.  He decided to brazen it out, instead of appear weak to one of the only people who truly seemed to care about his welfare.

He blamed Gryffindor House for rubbing off on him.  Where _had_ his practicality gone...?

The actual Side-Along Apparation went without a hitch.  Severus was pleased to discover that he was not one of those in whom Apparation caused extreme sickness, or even disorientation; he felt the expected pressure, like his body was being squeezed through a small tube, then a sensation like his ears popping and it was done, with hardly a wobble on his part.  Professor McGonagall gave a pursed-lipped smile of satisfaction after a quick once-over glance, then with a brisk nod was ushering him into her modest-seeming home, a flick of her wand causing his trunk to float along serenely behind them.

The guest room she showed him to was quite comfortable, with a nice big canopied four-poster bed, a secretary’s desk with a suspiciously Muggle-like wheeled chair, and two comfortable-looking armchairs complete with footrests and even an end table between them, set facing a mid-sized fireplace just left of the door.  (There was a canister on the mantel that he suspected was for Floo powder, though he wasn’t particularly interested to see if it were filled; where would he want to go?  Lily’s Muggle home wasn’t even on the Floo Network, and he didn’t know Remus’ Floo address.  Anywhere else would likely end with his father’s presence!)  Everything in the room was in comfortable, muted shades of green, brown, and blue.  There were two big windows on the outside wall, letting in more than sufficient light for scholarly pursuits when their long green and blue plaid drapes were pulled back.

The Professor levitated Snape’s trunk neatly to the foot of the bed, settling it down at a brisk flick of her wand with barely a thump.  “Breakfast is at seven o’clock, Lunch at one, and dinner at seven in the evening.  I naturally expect you to be prompt at mealtimes.  The house-elves will always enquire first if you wish to take tea, and you may call for Nippy if you need something outside of mealtimes.”  Severus appreciated that she had done him the courtesy of _not_ reminding him to clean up before meals, as one would say to a small child.

With a slight hesitation as she peered at him over the tops of her square-lensed spectacles, she stated more than asked, “I doubt you have any homework that needs to be done...?”

Her querying gaze was met with a bland shake of his head, “no.”  He’d actually finished all of it in a nervous spurt back at Hogwarts, since he’d been mostly unable to sleep anyway.  He was rather flattered she’d assumed his good study habits.

Satisfaction flickered over the Professor’s face.  “Very good.”  The corners of her lips twitched as she fought a smile when she said, “I hope you are able to continue influencing Mr. Potter’s study habits as you have been doing--though I would have thought Merlin, himself, would not have been able to get that boy to do his homework in good time!”

Severus blinked, startled at having a professor seem to tease him, yet still wary.  It seemed Professor McGonagall loosened up somewhat in her own home.

Until very recently, the only person who had ever teased him without ill intent of one kind or another had been Lily.  He never had been sure just how to deal with teasing, malicious or not.  Remus had been helping, but so far that was only with fellow Gryffindor students.  The few times he’d tried ignoring taunts aimed at him, they’d simply kept at him with more and worse cruel words and threats, until they got the reaction they wanted.  He’d taken to immediately sniping back with the worst insults he could come up with in an effort to keep anyone from picking at him in the first place.  Not that it worked all the time, but it had actually helped keep the more minor annoyances away from him.  Kind of like people usually not wanting to poke a stick at a sleeping bear that was not caged.

Though until recently, a certain pack of Gryffindors had taken that as a challenge...

The first couple days of his stay went rather well, Severus thought, in spite of McGonagall’s insistence on personally escorting him about the grounds each day, supposedly to be sure he got enough fresh air and exercise.  She didn’t seem at all fond of the idea of him holing himself up in his room except for meals.  She also seemed somewhat frustrated with his excessive politeness, though she was aware enough of its likely cause based in his sense of insecurity to not push him too much about it.

Yet.

She realized it probably wasn’t time yet to ask him to call her “Minerva” when they were away from the school.  She was rather tired of being addressed only as “Professor”, especially in her own home.  There was more to Minerva McGonagall than her job, after all!  The poor boy obviously wouldn’t be comfortable with that level of familiarity for quite some time, more’s the pity.  As evidenced by his deer-in-headlights expression when she dared try to gently tease him.

The letters from Lily every other day inevitably brightened, and somehow softened the boy’s black eyes, Minerva noticed.  The change was subtle, but there--when one bothered to look closely for it.  And Minerva had taken to looking closely at young Mr. Snape.  The boy apparently bottled everything up within himself, only letting it out when he was with Miss Evans, or the pressure of an emotion had become too great for him to bear.  As Minerva not only was not abusive towards him in any way, but had at some point managed to gain the boy’s respect, if not trust--he did not explode in a temper while at her home.  Of course, he barely smiled or laughed, either, though she was sure she saw signs of suppressed humor at times.  As she’d suspected, their senses of humor were quite similar, and her concentrated efforts were making _some_ headway towards loosening him up.  Her comments on articles in the  Daily Prophet could now have him desperately stifling snickers before page two.

She hoped by the end of the break that she’d have learned how to get through that unnatural reserve of his and draw the “real” Severus Snape out, instead of the too-polite, near automaton the boy was currently impersonating.  Honestly; she’d seen _trees_ with more personality than he was currently allowing himself to display!

Five days into the break, however, Severus received some unexpected correspondence...

-.-.-.-

A mere three days into the break, Lily Evans discovered that she was bored.

More than merely _bored_ ; she was mind-numbingly, Petrifically, unendingly _consumed_ with a sense of apathetic **stasis**.  She couldn’t ever remember a time when she’d been so uninterested in doing _anything_.  Even her elder sister’s derisive commentary, when their parents were safely out of earshot of course, couldn’t get any kind of rise out of her.  Which, naturally, caused Petunia no end of frustration, and did more to get her to leave Lily alone than anything else ever had.

The problem was simple: Severus wasn’t there.

There was no one with whom Lily could share a magical viewpoint on Muggle news with; no one to brainstorm over holiday homework assignments with, even though he normally had his done by the end of the first day; no one to insult her sister so subtly that Petunia took hours to figure out she’d even _been_ insulted...no one to meet at the park to talk with about things that mattered to Lily, but her family was clueless about and uninterested in to boot.  No one to go for casual walks outside in the evening, when her house became too stuffy and... _foreign_...to bear any longer.

Thank Merlin for her Grouchy!  Lily thought she’d have gone _spare_ in under a day, if she hadn’t had her owl.  The tawny owl was always rather scruffy looking, with some of his feathers bound and determined to stick out at odd angles no matter what anyone did to smooth them.  The ones on his head and over his large eyes, especially, gave him a perpetually angry look.  When combined with the single odd tuft sticking out sideways from alongside his beak that bobbed up and down whenever he made a sound, just like he was chewing on a cigar--well, it had led her in a fit of giggles to name him for Groucho Marx, her father’s all-time favorite comedian.

She had sent Grouchy off to Severus shortly after she got home, the letter already half written in the car on the way from the train station.  She’d mentioned everything that she would have said and pointed out had he been with her as usual, as well as nattering on about how nice it was to be home again for a while; but how she already missed Hogwarts...  Thinking on it while watching Grouchy wing off into the night sky, she rather thought she might have babbled a bit excessively.  Oh, well; too late now.  She was certain Severus would simply grin and tease her about it.

The return letter from Severus arrived a mere six hours later.  Apparently Professor McGonagall didn’t live all that far from London, and Remus was somewhere near the edge of the city, as well.  It didn’t hurt that the boys weren’t all that prone to written correspondence; she’d be surprised if they’d sent a whole paragraph between them.  Grouchy had also seemed to relish his task, and had likely flown a bit faster than was prudent.

As she read Severus’ mere half-page note, she could just hear her best friend’s amusement at the _five whole pages_ she’d sent him.  The little animated doodle of his staggering stick-figure self that he’d put by his signature at the end had a wildly spinning corkscrew over its head and swirling eyes.  Lily rolled her own eyes and snorted in amusement; she’d just known he would do that--he was _laughing_ at her, the git!  She didn’t even realize she was smiling at the little cartoon, and didn’t pay any attention to the irritated snort of disgust from the hall as her sister passed by and saw it.  Petunia had been getting more and more distant from Lily as her Hogwarts education continued; Lily no longer had a clue just what would set her sister off, and so tended to avoid or ignore the older girl whenever possible.

Severus hadn’t really _told_ Lily much of anything in his pitiful “letter”, only that he was “settling in well with Professor McGonagall”.  Lily huffed at that; with Severus, “settling in well” simply meant there had been no bloodshed or excessive bruising.  Her next letter to him in two days would have to address his lacking skill at letter-writing--she wanted DETAILS!  What type of house did McGonagall have?  What was the weather like?  The room he was staying in?  Was anyone else there?  What were the neighbors like; _were_ there any nearby neighbors?  DETAILS, MAN!!

Scowling somewhat fiercely at the schedule she herself had set up, Lily had muttered and mumbled under her breath as she plopped down at the small desk in her room to write her first letter to Remus, to be sent the next morning.  She brightened a bit when she realized that would give her a whole day to think up appropriate things to say to Severus about his faulty correspondence, rather than sending something off on the spur of the moment only to think up the perfect comeback a half-hour after Grouchy had left.  And maybe Remus might have something to add, too; Grouchy would be going from Remus to Severus and back to Remus before returning to her, this time.

Those letters to and from her two friends were the only thing of interest that seemed to happen to her, though.  By the end of the first week, not only had Petunia given up at picking on her sister for lack of a response, but their parents had started watching Lily in concern that she might be coming down ill.  They’d never seen their normally lively and vibrant daughter so gloomy, dull--and _quiet._   Where was the incessant chatter about Hogwarts and the wonderful magic she was learning and the great friends she had and the remarkable quirks of the castle and denizens and even the furnishings...?

The elder Evanses were soon exchanging worried looks and using any excuse to feel Lily’s forehead for fever.  She simply must be coming down sick; why else would she be lounging with such apathy at various windows, staring outside with vacant eyes?  The only time their youngest daughter showed any animation was when that silly owl of hers came with another letter.  She came up with the most pitiful excuses for not going anywhere with the family, or even her old Muggle childhood friends; she never went anywhere on her own; she showed no interest in any television or radio show, or play, or even going to her old favorite haunt, the ice rink--she could not even be tempted from the house by a promised visit to the brand new video store that she’d become so enamored of over the last summer break.

Lily’s mother was the first to realize there could well be another reason than illness for Lily’s doldrums.

Her parents hadn’t really been aware of what had happened to Severus at Hogwarts, not more than a rough idea that his father had shown up at the castle and caused him some sort of harm; Lily hadn’t gone into much detail about that in her letters home from school.  Her parents knew that Severus was now in Lily’s school House, but they didn’t know why--and they weren’t aware that it was anything all that out of the ordinary.  It seemed logical to them, after all, that if a student had a problem with the first House he was put in, then he should be moved to another.  They’d never understood about the Sorting Hat, and the magic that chose the House for the student.

They _did_ know that the elder Snape was not a particularly admirable kind of person.  They had allowed young Severus to basically “hide out” in their house more than a handful of times, quietly supplying bandages when necessary, though he would only allow Lily to know for certain when he was wounded badly enough to need help.  He couldn’t hide every last trace of blood or bruising, though, especially those times he couldn’t avoid limping for pain.

Finally learning that the boy had, for the first time, _not_ come home over the break, sparked the germ of an idea in Mrs. Evans’ mind.  She knew her daughter hadn’t spent more than a single day without setting eyes on Severus Snape since shortly after they met as little children.  Their friendship was very close.  Considering the onset of puberty, it was also possible that Lily had begun seeing Severus in a slightly... _different_...way, even if the girl hadn’t quite figured it out for herself yet.  It was certain that young Severus thought Lily hung the stars in the heavens...!  He was quite firmly in her orbit, much to her mother’s amusement.

Mrs. Evans had given her husband a rather sly sideways smile when the thought first occurred to her.  Mr. Evans had caught his wife’s look, glanced back at his daughter, then paled six shades to pure white as he easily followed the gist of her train of thought.

He was absolutely NOT ready to consider even the mere _thought_ of his precious, _baby_ girl-- ** _dating!!_**   No, no; definitely **NOT!!**...Where _had_ he put his father’s antique (but in fine working order) pistol...?  Mr. Evans hadn’t quite gotten around to considering young Severus as anything more than a kind of adopted son, as he’d kind of helped raise the boy, so often Severus was at their house.

Lily, on the other hand, hadn’t gotten to the point of consciously realizing that her best friend was even _male,_ yet.  The girl thought nothing of the way her day would light up just with his mere presence; or how he could make her heart beat nearly triple-time these days when she coaxed an actual smile out of him.  She thought becoming depressed just because she couldn’t set eyes on him for _two whole weeks_ was simply normal separation anxiety, and nothing more.  The way she doodled his name along with little hearts and flowers in the margins of whatever parchment or book she was working on didn’t mean a thing, of course...

As Lily’s father was obviously not a good choice of parent to talk to the girl about such important and delicate topics as _Boyfriends_ and _Dating,_ Lily’s mother exiled her husband from the house that first Saturday and sat Lily down in the kitchen with tea and biscuits, to be absolutely certain her daughter was not completely clueless.  Just in case.  She had gone over the basics with Lily a couple of times before; once just before her daughter left for Hogwarts, and once after she came home suddenly sporting the first hint of real womanly curves (which somehow unexpected sight had nearly sent Lily’s father into an apoplectic _fit,_ as Hogwarts was obviously not an all-girls school!)...but they had not covered anything in the sort of complete **details** that Mrs. Evans now revealed to her daughter--whose face quickly became _much_ redder than even her fiery hair.

There was no way in Heaven’s name that Lily would ever share even a _hint_ of that highly embarrassing Talk with _any_ male of the species!!!  She would spontaneously combust first--just POOF!  No more Lily, just a puff of smoke...!

One unexpected thing came from this version of The Talk--unexpected by Lily, anyway.  Once she got beyond dwelling on the... _mechanics_...of things, Lily’s subconscious and her heart actually started talking to each other.  Her _conscious_ mind wasn’t completely let in on the “secret” yet, as it wasn’t quite ready; but the dreams now being fed to it to be chewed over during the day were blunt enough, she wouldn’t be able to escape the obvious conclusion for long.

Her conscious mind just had to stop blanking out the face of the young man starring in those new, highly embarrassing, and rather... _exciting_...dreams.

Until then, she’d simply be taking a lot of cold showers.  Every day.

Lily’s correspondence with Remus was pretty ordinary, seeming hardly different than talking to him in person.  He was also having a nice, quiet vacation at home, with nothing of real interest going on.  Each of his letters barely covered a whole page of parchment--when he was writing larger than usual.  His letters practically _screamed_ BOREDOM.  Lily’s weren’t much better; the only thing she really had to share with Remus was that Severus, who certainly _had_ to be doing more interesting things than either of them for no other reason than that he was somewhere new-- _wasn’t sharing any_ _details_.  Hmph!!!

Lily could almost hear Remus laughing in his reply to that.  She made sure to put a comically scowling lily by her name on her next letter to him.

Lily did have something unexpected happen at the start of the second week, though.  A strange owl came with Grouchy that Monday when he brought the latest letter from Remus.  Lily untied the parchment scroll from its leg with raised eyebrows, wondering who had written to her, absently feeding the stranger-owl a couple owl treats right alongside Grouchy--who glared at and tried to peck the big, sleekly handsome newcomer.  It took off the moment it was done with its treat, Grouchy glaring death and dismemberment after it until the other owl had disappeared into the clouds.

The letter was from one James Potter.

After spending nearly five minutes debating with herself if she should open it or not, Lily finally shrugged and decided, why not.  The prat _had_ been acting decently to Severus lately; and he’d never written to her before.  It shouldn’t hurt to simply see what he had to say.  Her curiosity would drive her insane until she did, anyway!

 

**_To be continued..._ **

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _**AN:** SUVs are out to get me. I have now been rear-ended by the SIXTH ONE--always while I’m stopped like I’m supposed to be (this time for a train; and I’d been stopped there for a whole minute when she nailed me). Two times were in my bus, and so inconsequential; but four were in my personal vehicles. This is amazingly enough my first time with whiplash. ::makes nasty face:: Unfortunately, the injury didn’t start sending determined pain messages to my brain for a full twenty-four hours. And the muscle relaxant medication my doctor ended up giving me does nothing to enhance writing ability, let me tell you! ::rolls eyes:: I couldn’t WALK straight on that stuff, let alone drive, so I’ve had to miss work. Grrr!! At least my car only has one miniscule inch-long scratch by the license plate._   
> _Of course, once the whiplash was completely healed up, my little Ford Escort was body-slammed by a DEER at five-forty-five in the bloody AM. A DEER! From back and left of me, popping out of the extra-deep rural ditch and hitting just in front of the driver’s door. New fender and headlight, dented hood...AAGH!_   
> _Someone reviewed that they thought James’ attitude reversal in chapter 1 was unrealistic. I’m partially basing it off a real life acquaintance, though--it really can happen that drastically. If something hits a person with enough of a shock, their whole personality can change, not just an opinion; and quite radically. It doesn’t have to be much of a shock to anyone else, either--it just has to hit them like a two-by-four upside their head, knocking something loose, so to speak. I figure James may be a spoiled brat used to getting his own way and not worrying himself about consequences to others, but at heart he’s a good kid. Just rather...blind. I figured the horror of seeing the Cruciatus Curse cast, let alone by a father on his own son, would be enough to skew his world-view. Then, young as he is, part of his way of coping might well be to focus on the obvious victim (who he’s been forced to notice was not behaving as he’d believed someone of that stereotype would!) as A Project. It’s something he can do himself, after all--and this was probably the first time he’d ever considered Snape to be a Real Person. There’s a lot of other psychological schtuff to consider, too--fascinating thing, psychology!_   
> _Besides, the human brain doesn’t stop developing until the mid to late twenties. Heh--that certainly explains typical teenage single-mindedness! However much “software” we cram into them at school, they simply haven’t got all the “hardware” installed to run it properly yet! >=]_   
> 


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _**Quick AN:** Just had to share the happy news--part of the reason I’ve taken so long for this update, is that I’ve self-published an original sci-fi story of mine on the Barnes & Noble website as an e-book, titled Silver. If you do an author search on bn.com for the author name: Marla J. Davis, WHEE! my e-book comes up! I’ve actually sold some, too! ::energetic happy dance:: It’s 137,000 words, and I drew the cover myself. Barnes & Noble have a **free sample download** of about five percent of the story for most of their e-books; that imitates how you can leaf through a printed book in their stores, so you can see if you’re really interested before having to actually buy anything. ::hint, hint!! Hopeful hinting! Wiggling eyebrows and nodding encouragingly while putting forth best imitation of Begging Puppy Dog Eyes!!::_   
>  _I’ve been working on Silver since...well, forever, and I’m now actually pretty much satisfied with it. ::falls over in shock!:: It’s Sci-Fi that’s considered quite acceptably Young Adult (teens), though all ages seem to like it. Pfft--in other words, there’s no “snogging” or steamy sex scenes. As the main character’s not quite **twelve,** I think that’s entirely reasonable! Silver gets himself into enough trouble as it is without adding hormones, between his secret Talent of telepathy and a sudden and quite unexpected induction into the High end of his planet’s society...and then all those potentially fatal situations that keep slamming into him._   
>  _And now, back to the anticipated newest chapter of this fanfiction..._   
> 

Minerva noticed that her houseguest was visibly troubled, after he received a letter from a haughtier than usual eagle-owl.  The bird looked familiar; she was certain she’d seen it in the Great Hall at Hogwarts, though she didn’t think it had been Severus the bird had been delivering mail to, then.  She dropped hints that she was there if Severus wished to talk, but didn’t press him; for which the boy--no; young man, really--was obviously relieved.  A couple times that day she thought he might be working himself up to saying something to her, but he always ended up closing his mouth and slumping tiredly, before skulking from the room with an air about him like a kicked puppy.

Whatever was in that letter bothered him enough that the next letter from Lily Evans actually failed to cheer him up.  Minerva decided to give him a couple days before working to pry any details out of him; but no longer.  Severus was already thin as a rail; his apparent loss of appetite could do him actual physical harm, if not dealt with promptly.  She certainly didn’t want the boy to develop a long-term problem, by letting him get away with a habit of not eating when upset!

Severus, meanwhile, didn’t know _what_ to do.  That letter had been highly unexpected.  Lucius Malfoy had never written to him before, though the older boy didn’t seem to mind his company too much in the Slytherin Common Room.  Lucius had never been one of those who hazed Severus; in fact, he had bestirred himself to stop the worst of the shenanigans, sometimes--granted it was only when his own studying had been disrupted; but, still.  Lucius had actually chastised the _pranksters,_ and not their target!  That happened rarely enough that Severus felt some bit of gratitude towards the arrogant and condescending Malfoy Heir, almost in spite of himself.  Enough to at least allow him to tolerate the High-born snob enough to hide discreetly in his shadow whenever possible, thus earning himself a little peace in his own House’s Common Room.

He just didn’t know what to do with this-- _invitation_.  Accept, decline; pretend he never received it...?  He could always blame Professor McGonagall for nicking his mail--

Oh, Merlin!  He’d have to _tell_ her about it, if he wanted to use that excuse.  There was no way the Head of Gryffindor would confiscate an invitation for him to Malfoy Manor the evening before the break ended “to make the acquaintance of an up and coming Most Noble Lord of some more than little importance” to discuss his eligibility to join “an exclusive club” as a Malfoy initiate, without quickly figuring out just what Lucius was trying to be so coy about not mentioning directly.  A scathing response letter to Malfoy from her would be the very _least_ that could result from _that_ happening in reality!

Severus had begun to notice that Gryffindors who survived their insanely reckless impulsive streaks all the way into adulthood apparently either grew into having brains, or attached themselves to someone(s) able to save them from themselves.  (Or were just insanely lucky...!)  Severus had Professor McGonagall pegged as definitely in the first category; he’d seen her act almost Slytherin more than a few times in dealing with students, during his school years.  She certainly wasn’t the second, as she’d attached herself to Hogwarts’ twinkle-happy, sugar-addicted Headmaster; she would be the one trying to keep the Headmaster on track, not the other way around!

The sharp, biting sense of humor he was beginning to strongly suspect that Professor McGonagall shared with him, that she normally never exercised in front of her students, gave him some hope that she was possibly smart enough to see at least as many ramifications to this invitation as he did.  With her years of experience, she might actually be able to give him some _usable_ advice for his answer to Malfoy.

If he could just bring himself to _ask_ her...!

Cold chills shivered up and down Severus’ spine, sending blocks of ice out to encase his fingers and toes.  He kept his teeth clenched to keep them from chattering in sheer nervousness.  Thank Merlin--thank even James Bloody Potter!--that he was no longer living physically within Slytherin House, and subject to after-curfew association with Lucius and the other upper form students there.  Denying this oh-so-generous “offer”, no matter how politely, would have been bald-faced _suicide,_ then--and not just academically!

Severus _really,_ truly, did **NOT** want to meet his father’s precious Dark Lord.  He wouldn’t join that sadistic bastard for his father’s sake; he _certainly_ wouldn’t do it for Malfoy’s!  No matter how much the older boy had played at helping him out over the years; or how much of a threat he’d be bringing on himself by his refusal.  None of them had _his_ best interests at heart; only their use of him.  He knew very well that his status as a Potions prodigy was what made him desirable to them, but that gave him no more guarantee of personal life choices than if he were a house elf.  As soon as people realized he wasn’t merely rebelling against his father, but was even more against his father’s _ideals_ , things were bound to get... _interesting,_ at school.

The letter Lily sent him two days after Lucius’ “invitation” stripped the least hint of anything approaching even a cautious sense of vague cheer from Severus, and made it nearly impossible for Minerva to pry his eyes up from a listless contemplation of his shoes.  If Lily started actually talking with James Potter--

What chance in the name of Merlin’s fuzzy, pink-striped socks did a surly, bad-tempered, ugly-as-sin Slytherin have against Gryffindor’s silver-tongued, all-too-popular Golden Boy of the dashing good looks and Quidditch fame?  Who was showing definite signs of actually maturing into a decent guy that Severus, himself, might actually one day begin to-- _oh Horror!_ \--somewhat _like?_

And whom Severus now _owed_ a rather serious life-debt?

-.-.-.-

Lily had been rather pleased with the contents of James’ letter to her.  For one thing, there was not one even vaguely snide remark in it about Severus.  (Not that James was able to be at all subtle about someone he didn’t like, in the first place...he was normally about as subtle as a Bludger to the head.)  It appeared that his change of heart about Severus was still holding firm.  Maybe the idiot was trainable, after all!  She’d been distracted enough from her moping by that bright thought to finally decide to reward him for good behavior, by writing him back.

In a day or two.  Maybe four...  She could always owl it right before leaving to catch the Express back to Hogwarts...

It certainly wouldn’t do to give the prat ideas that she might _like_ him, now.  There were a lot of years of bullying her best friend unmercifully for James Potter to make up for, before he could possibly earn her forgiveness.  Oath or no Oath of “brotherhood” to Severus, Lily knew very well that siblings didn’t necessarily have the best relationships, either.  Heaven knew she and Petunia could barely be in the same house together anymore without verbal fireworks...!  James could work to keep Severus alive, but still end up being a prat to him once more.  Though things were certainly looking hopeful.

Besides, she’d spent way too much time making up her three-way letter-schedule to bollix it up so soon, as James’ owl hadn’t stayed for a reply.

She also wanted Severus’ opinion of what she should say, and even if she really should bother to write back to James, before she sent any kind of response; and maybe even Remus’ thoughts on it.  Though maybe not Remus; he had been close friends with James since shortly after they all first arrived at Hogwarts, she wasn’t sure she could trust him to be impartial.  Severus had never been shy to state (with all venom!) that he _hated_ “James Bloody Potter”; if _he_ thought the prat had changed his ways enough to be worth befriending now, she could trust his judgment.

-.-.-.-

Their shared owl went from a newly depressed Severus to Remus, back to Severus, then returned to Lily for the night.  The next day it went first to Remus with Lily’s request for an opinion, then on to a still highly depressed Severus; and back to Remus, before returning to Lily for the night again.  The next day it would start with Severus once more.  The poor bird would be getting a good workout on this “vacation” time, with so much flying every day!  It seemed pleased with the exercise, though.

Lily’s missive to Remus the following day couldn’t mention it, of course, as she was of course given no clue by her Slytherin friend; but Severus had been made so desperately unhappy that in his letter to Remus, he’d morosely confided that their strict owl schedule might be disrupted soon.  The difference between what Severus wrote to him and what he received from Lily the next morning confirmed for Remus that the both of them were completely blind, deaf, and dumb--as in, they were utter _idiots!_ \--when it came to their feelings towards each other.  Severus quite obviously (if you knew how to translate his snark, anyway!) thought Lily was the very Goddess who hung the moon and stars and brought order to his universe; Remus had no doubt Severus would do absolutely anything Lily asked of him, including “falling on his sword”.  Lily obviously trusted Severus before anyone else on the planet with her whole heart, and quite _blatantly_ disagreed with the common opinion that Severus Snape was “ugly”.  It was rather amusing how jealous she could get, at the mere _thought_ of another girl figuring that out for themselves and giving him a second look.

Severus had managed to not say anything derogatory in his letter about James trying to steal his Lily away, but his black mood had practically enshrouded his letter to Remus in a regular Cloud of Gloom.  After a half hour of cutting through more sarcasm than Severus had used with him since before James’ epiphany, Remus was satisfied he understood the basic problem.  Not being directly involved, he had a bit of perspective that Severus--and Lily--didn’t.  Especially knowing James as well as he did; he had a feeling his long-time friend actually was _not_ trying to steal Lily away.  Not that Remus thought James had the chance of a snowball hit by Fiendfyre, anyway.  James might have simply finally listened to the advice Remus had been giving him for years, and was trying to get to actually _know_ Lily, instead of worshipping the icon he’d made her into.  If he could find out enough that he didn’t like about her, it would help him let go of his obsession--before Lily did something permanent to him.  Remus knew a couple spells Lily had researched in the Hogwarts Library earlier in the year that most probably had James’ name engraved on them in her mind, and Remus was rather certain that James’ parents wouldn’t be pleased to lose all chance at any future grandchildren before their son had even graduated Hogwarts!

Remus wanted to be sure he was very careful what he said when he sent Severus his not-exactly-solicited advice on the matter.  He had become close enough friends with the snarky Slytherin that he didn’t want to see him hurt over a misunderstanding, and certainly didn’t want to give him bad advice in one of the few instances Severus actually _almost_ asked for it.  Sort of.  Slytherin-indirectly.  He also wanted to see what Severus next sent him, before he actually sent his response; in case Severus had managed to calm himself down--or something _else_ had happened.  Merlin forbid that Severus had panicked, forgotten which House he’d been Sorted into, and tried to order Lily to not reply to James!  Remus winced and shuddered as he imagined Lily’s likely response to _that._   He wouldn’t need an owl to hear about it; he’d probably be able to hear the scream of outrage clearly all the way to his house--without magic!

Remus rolled his eyes as he started outlining his reply, smirking a bit.  At least Severus kept him on his toes mentally.  His Gryffindor friends tended to be blunt to the point of rudeness when they needed help with something, and then usually only needed an equivalently blunt object upside their heads to knock their common sense free.  Detailed advice was utterly wasted on them.

Knowing everyone involved as he did, Remus didn’t think it was terribly likely that Lily would suddenly develop any kind of infatuation with James Potter; especially not one strong enough for her to drop Severus in any way, shape, or form.  Lily had too much appreciation for the Slytherin’s clever, sarcastic wit, which she shared--if in a nicer way.  Remus didn’t think he dared clue Lily in to Severus’ obvious-to-everybody-else feelings, though; she might not believe him, and Merlin forbid she joked to Severus about it as if it were a ridiculous idea.  The Slytherin would likely be _crushed,_ and then he’d _never_ work himself up to officially asking Lily out!

Remus paused in his writing, staring wide-eyed at the wall behind his desk, as a number of disastrous outcomes played before his mind’s eye.  Maybe he _had_ better drop a few clue-by-fours on Lily’s head, to try and get her to at least consider the idea that Severus might really _like-_ like her, and not just friendship-like her.  He certainly didn’t _sister_ -like her!  If Remus could somehow get Lily to start looking for the clues Severus let off like fireworks at midnight whenever Lily was nearby, she might overcome her Severus-shaped blind spot and quit treating him like a brother--even while she acted like a possessive girlfriend.

(Remus shook his head; really, _how_ could anyone possibly _miss_ how much Severus liked Lily?!  Merlin’s ghost, the boy practically worshiped the ground she walked on!  He’d do anything she asked of him, no matter how embarrassing he found it, without more than token grumbling!  That was one _serious_ crush, if it wasn’t outright love!)

One thing Remus decided to himself, as he finished his rough draft--if things looked to be bollixing up between those two, he was going to lock them in a room together until they straightened any misunderstandings out.  He just wasn’t sure if he wanted to be _in_ the room with them if that happened, to mediate and/or translate!

-.-.-.-

Severus hadn’t mentioned the letter from Lucius Malfoy to either of his friends.  He knew he’d have to respond to it somehow, but couldn’t even seem to sit down with parchment and quill to rough something out.  He still had a few more months of school to put up with Malfoy before the seventh-year would be out of Hogwarts for good; and even then, some of the older boy’s closest cohorts were a year or even two behind him.  And that wasn’t counting future recruits!  Getting this wrong would be worse than mouthing off right to his father’s face--and possibly as fatal, in the long term.

Besides--it just didn’t seem as immediately significant to him as the Potter Problem was.  After all, if Lily actually took up with James Potter, how could Severus possibly care a whit about anything else?

He knew he didn’t dare delay answering Malfoy much longer, though, even with the excuse of finding an owl--the Malfoy bird hadn’t stayed for a reply.  He certainly couldn’t wait until they got back to Hogwarts to respond!

It was time to find out once and for all just how far Professor McGonagall was willing to go, to help him.

Naturally, when they sat to dinner that evening, when Severus hesitantly asked Professor McGonagall if she had a moment to speak with him, he found the words coming out of his mouth had absolutely _nothing_ to do with Lucius Poncey Malfoy.  His Lily-Potter dilemma spilled from his lips before his brain even consciously realized he was still brooding obsessively over it.

“Professor...Potter’s written to Lily, and she’s asking _me_ what to say back to him.”

Minerva blinked at the boy’s mournful expression, caught quite unaware, and not entirely certain she wasn’t hearing things.  Were it not for the suddenly mortified expression spreading over the young Slytherin’s face...well, he quite obviously hadn’t meant to tell her _that!_  

Then she did a mental double-take.  Had this usually so-Slytherin, young, _male_ student...actually just asked _her_ for advice on his _love-life??_   She gave her head a tiny shake in disbelief, taking a bite of her trifle to stall while she found her voice, trying to think of what she could say.  Even her Gryffindor’s didn’t usually go that far in their trust of her!

It seemed obvious, to her at least, that neither Severus nor Lily had the least clue about the other’s feelings for them, and wouldn’t be likely to believe their own feelings were reciprocated until they’d conked each other over the head with them a few times.  So telling him would do no good to reassure the poor boy--and reassurance he was obviously in desperate need of.

There was a vague, very slight-- _infinitesimal_ \--possibility that Lily Evans might, _might,_ possibly, eventually, take a shine to James Potter; but Minerva would be willing to bet her wand that if it should ever happen, it would be short-lived and purely physical, unless someone meddled by slipping the girl a permanent love potion.  Which would be the first thing Minerva checked for, if Lily Evans suddenly reversed more than four years of distinct... _dislike,_ to put it mildly...and appeared to happily accept a date with James Potter.  No matter how handsome the boy might be.

Quite frankly, Minerva didn’t think James could keep up with Lily’s intelligence for more than a week at the absolute most, _if_ he had a great deal of help.  The boy was only average in his classes, _when_ he bothered to study; he much preferred to get by on his innate charm and Quidditch skills, more’s the pity.

\--Not that there was anything wrong with being good at Quidditch!!

Minerva sighed, hoping the conviction in her voice would ease Severus’ concerns at least a little as she said, “I wouldn’t worry about it if I were you, Severus.  Just be yourself around her, as you always have been; continue to be her best friend, and give her the best advice you can think of when she asks.”  A sudden thought hit, and Minerva pinned him with a stern, yet humor-tinted glare.  “Just, for Merlin’s sake, _don’t_ tell her he might be truly romantically inclined towards her--not until well _after_ you have told her of your own interest in her!”

The poleaxed look on the boy’s face as he stared unblinking at her made Minerva’s lips twitch with the effort to contain her laughter.  That had just been too irresistible...!  Her eyes must surely be twinkling like the Headmaster’s.  She purposefully turned to the food her house elves had just popped onto the table in front of them as the boy slowly flushed beet-red and swallowed hard, still with that frozen-deer look on his face.  She hoped he might be able to recover himself enough to eat if she weren’t looking at him.

He seemed to notice the food for the first time several minutes later.  Minerva kept a subtle eye on his progress, reminding him once in her usual no-nonsense tone that food left on the plate helped make no muscles; they weren’t made of air, after all.

That _almost_ earned her an honest-to-Merlin glare.  Her lips twitched again, and she took a bite to cover her smile.  She was making progress!  Severus might actually loosen up enough by the time they were due to return to Hogwarts to engage in a verbal battle of snark with her.  The prospect of a good battle of wits with a well-armed and armored opponent cheered Minerva greatly.  Albus was no fun; he just _twinkled_ at her, instead of coming up with a good verbal riposte.  It was no fun when your adversary didn’t engage!

It was an hour after dinner that Severus remembered what he’d originally _meant_ to ask the professor.  Realizing how short time was getting, he sought out his host, finding her in her library, settled comfortably on one of the several couches in the large room.  She was reading a book, a cup of tea steaming gently under a warming charm on the end table at her elbow.

He hesitated in the doorway, then swallowed down his apprehension into a tight knot centered in his stomach and stepped into the room, his normal quiet glide bringing him to stand in front of her without her consciously noticing him.  He softly cleared his throat, making her startle and glance up.

“Oh, Severus!  Here for something to read?”

He was never quite sure what to make of the fact that Professor McGonagall always seemed _pleased_ to see him.  Not angry, disturbed, or even simply indifferent--but actually _pleased._   This break was going quite differently from how he’d expected!  He was beginning to think he now had three people on his no-longer-so-short list of those who actually, inexplicably _liked_ him.  --No, wait; it was _four_ now, with Remus!

He was actually losing count.  That was disconcerting!

Dragging his mind back to the matter at hand, Severus slowly drew in a deep breath and started to explain.  “No, I--I need your advice, Professor... _not_ about Lily again!” he hastened to add in a moment of panic, raising his hands defensively in front of himself, desperate to stay **off** _that_ delicate topic.  He had the very clear idea from dinner that Professor McGonagall had a streak of the matchmaker in her, and he certainly didn’t want her actively shoving him at Lily.  Not that Severus was anything close to being _against_ the idea, Merlin forbid; but...he wanted to be absolutely sure that _Lily_ wouldn’t be against the idea, before he did anything that might possibly jeopardize their friendship.  He didn’t think he could stand it, if she reacted with horror to the very idea of him being--well, anything more than just a friend.

Clasping his hands white-knuckled at his waist, he swallowed and went on, his expression rather grim as he held Minerva’s eyes, “I received another letter, before Lily’s--from Lucius Malfoy.”

The Professor’s expression showed a split second of shocked recognition as she finally placed that strange owl’s owner, before going grimly serious.  She stared into his eyes for a moment, appearing satisfied at whatever she found there.  She laid her book on the end table next to her tea and patted the couch by her, inviting him to “Sit, Severus.  I’m assuming you wish some help in avoiding an unwanted association with Mr. Malfoy.”

Severus nodded and hesitantly sat beside her, keeping stiff-backed on the edge of the couch as if ready to bolt at any moment.

Minerva “tsked” at him and shook her head, smiling a little.  “Settle back, Severus, make yourself comfortable; I won’t bite.”  She watched him hesitantly scoot back to sit properly on the couch, though his posture was still more stiff-backed-proper than most adults bothered with these days.  She probably ought to have said “don’t” instead of “won’t”, though she wasn’t certain he’d have believed it; he was acting very like a mouse between the paws of a cat of uncertain appetite.  She sighed and got down to business, understanding, as Severus had hoped she would, how important his response to a letter from the Malfoy scion would be.  Though as a member of Albus’ Order of the Phoenix since back during the fight against Grindelwald, she probably had a better understanding of what could be at stake than even Severus did, with his Death Eater father.

-.-.-.-

Minerva drew Severus into discussing every encounter he could ever remember having with Lucius Malfoy; or with any other children he knew or even suspected of being related to Death Eaters, or merely just sympathetic to them.  She was relieved to find that not only did he give her no unexpected names (though confirming how many non-Slytherins there were was somewhat disheartening--especially in her own House!), but that Severus had been canny enough to actually maintain a basically neutral stance among the students of Hogwarts, allowing his fellow students to make what assumptions they would.  The children of Death Eaters and sympathizers who knew of his father all assumed he was “one of them”, while the “neutrals” all thought he was with _them_.  Slytherin’s Light-minded students only suspected he _might_ possibly be one of them, but would hardly risk outing themselves to prove it; especially as Severus had made no move to befriend them.

She was amused enough to smile outright when he admitted that his House-mates had apparently decided he was the most Slytherin of them all, by managing to insinuate himself so deeply into Gryffindor’s protection.  Tobias Snape had obviously not spread word of his son’s defection, for whatever lucky reason--Minerva suspected to save his own embarrassment.

During their discussion, though, Severus had something of an epiphany--one that left Minerva aghast and furious when he shared it, yet made her proud of him at the same time.  Though that pride didn’t change her reaction--

**“I absolutely _forbid_ you to even _consider_ this lunacy!!”**

Severus returned her glare as resolve finished taking root in his mind, shining from his black eyes.  His voice was earnest as he implored, “It’s the only way!  It solves my Malfoy problem, _and_ stops my father from wanting me dead!  Not to mention giving the Headmaster information that could help him protect Muggle-borns!” _\--like Lily,_ was the unvoiced end of that sentence.  “Anybody with any sense _knows_ that Dumbledore is leading the fight against the Dark Lord.  This way, I can help, instead of just being a burden; without having to hide away like a useless lump!”

Springing to her feet with the force of her concern-inspired outrage, Minerva consciously kept her fisted hands at her sides, instead of grabbing this infuriating young man by the shoulders and trying to shake some sense into him.  She didn’t want to admit just how scared she was for Severus, if he managed to go through with his insane idea.  The boy could not possibly have any idea of what he would be letting himself in for!  “There simply must be another way, one that keeps you safe!  You cannot--Severus, you’re just a _child--!!_   This war is Albus’ responsibility, along with all the other adults in our world!”

Severus shot to his feet, face twisting and darkening with fury and his own hands fisted as he ground out, “I haven’t been a _child_ since my mother died!”  Minerva gasped in shock, one hand rising to her chest as her heart constricted for him.  Magic twisted and coiled thickly, invisibly through the air, sending tingles of prickly sensation across their skin and through their bodies.  Severus closed his eyes and took a deep breath, visibly calming himself, reining his magic back within himself before it lashed out somehow on its own to express his distress.

“Professor--I _can’t_ just...go into hiding somewhere, for the rest of my life; especially when Lily--when people I c-care about will be in just as much danger as I am, and you know they _will_ end up fighting!  I _can’t_ just hide away!”

Staring down at the determined face of the young man confronting her, Minerva couldn’t help the swell of pride she felt at his suspiciously Gryffindor courage, even as her maternal instincts desperately insisted there must be some way to keep him safely _out_ of the war that was coming.  He was _much_ too young to even be thinking of taking on the dangerous role of _spying_ on He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named!  That evil You-Know _-What_ wouldn’t hesitate to kill even a child--he’d certainly been responsible for enough Muggle and Muggle-born children’s deaths, now, and by some truly gruesome means!  Her mind refused to even consider what might happen to Severus, if he went through with his mad plan--and were _discovered...!_

Even if Albus had been unable to insert an adult spy into that group of fanatics yet, she was sure he’d eventually find a way--that did _not_ include using _children!_   She didn’t even want this idea brought anywhere near the old man, on the off chance he might become interested in following through with it, if only by not acting to stop Severus.

She gave in to the urge to rest her hands on the boy’s shoulders, one hand patting nervously as she stared into his so-intense black eyes.  “Severus--please...just give me one day to come up with something else.  I don’t know about your father, but He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named is a master Legilimens--do you know what that is?”  She waited until he reluctantly nodded.  Well, at least she wouldn’t have to explain the mental magics to him from scratch.  “And do you know what Occlumency is?”

He raised his chin, his expression blanking of all but a slight disdain as she watched in growing astonishment.  All trace of high emotion was erased as he shifted to stand with apparent calm before her, one brow arched in question.  Even the traces of his highly disturbed magic faded from the air about them.

“Tobias Snape has practiced Legilimency on me for my whole life.  Mother taught me what she could of Occlumency to keep him out.  She said I’m a natural Occlumens.”  His voice didn’t catch or pause in the slightest at the mention of his mother, though Minerva was well aware her death still pained him, even so many years later.  “She warned me not to use it more than I had to, or I could possibly cause permanent harm to my mind.  I promised her I’d try to only use it around Father and his--friends.”

Minerva narrowed her eyes at him for a moment, then huffed and sat back down on the couch, slightly unsettled.  That had been a very Slytherin promise to his mother, basically allowing him to use the ability whenever he felt he needed to; but his attempt to keep the spirit of the promise, as she knew from his usual behavior at Hogwarts through the years, was rather Gryffindor.  Though...while that promise explained how James and Sirius had always been able to so quickly get under the skin of a natural Occlumens, it also was a perfect cover to keep Tobias from suspecting the skill in his son, especially if Severus was able to act out the emotions that he was actually suppressing.  Minerva’s head began to ache slightly as she tried to follow a Slytherin logic-path through all its convoluted twists and turns, quite certain she was missing several key points.  Her mind simply didn’t work that way.  She mused that his House-mates could well be right, about Severus being the most Slytherin of them all.

“I suppose I should have known; but I’m no Legilimens, to check the strength of your mental shields,” she finally admitted.  An icy chill swept through her as she realized, there really was no way she could keep him from his chosen course of action, though that wouldn’t stop her from trying.  Her eyes narrowed as she stared at him, one possible deterrent coming to mind--she knew he was not at all fond of Albus Dumbledore.  “The Headmaster would have to be the one to try and break through, and he’d have to use his full strength--he and You-Know-Who are supposedly matched in the mental magics.”  If that didn’t discourage him, she didn’t know what would; unless she became desperate enough to have a word with Miss Evans.  Which might not work either, simply because Severus would put the young lady’s well-being above her opinion of him, no matter how much it might pain him.  It might simply create a rift in their close friendship--which would not help Severus at all, but would likely make him even less careful for his own self.

Severus managed to not show his reaction to the thought of the Headmaster poking about in his head, but the knot of anxiety that had taken up residence in his stomach ratcheted another notch tighter, making his recent meal churn unpleasantly.  He nodded once, sharply, to show he understood, whether he liked it or not.

Minerva pursed her lips in displeasure, unwilling to give up, but unable to think of any other arguments at the moment.  She was well aware that Severus would approach the Headmaster himself in spite of his dislike of the old man, if she didn’t arrange a meeting for him.  Deciding it was better to remain personally involved than to renounce the whole spying idea in a temper and end up completely out of the loop, with no chance to influence Severus to take care for himself, she tried to keep the frost from her tone as she snapped, “I’ll contact the Headmaster and arrange a meeting for you, after we return to Hogwarts.”

Severus nodded cautiously, obviously a bit surprised that she was going to assist him at all, after her vehement protests against his idea.  He wasn’t about to turn down her help, though.

 

**_To be continued..._ **

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _**AN:** I should probably mention, this will NOT, EVER, become a Lemon. I do not write those sorts of scenes. I’m not even inclined to write the “mushy” scenes--kissing, etc.! I’ve got nothing against them, per se--I just don’t personally write them. I’ll tastefully allude, but definitely no explicit details! Feel free to use your own imagination where appropriate; it’s probably better than anything I would come up with along those lines, anyway. Besides--they’re only fourteen, fifteen years old, in this fic! The pipes might be installed, but the softener system ain’t even been picked out yet, or even the fixtures!_   
> 


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